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runwayrunway · 7 months

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No. 52 - Alaska Airlines Xáat Kwáani and Salmon-Thirty-Salmon Liveries

Did you think I was done with Alaska Airlines?

No, this is actually my last post about them for now (though, mark my words, you will be seeing a post about the Gold Nugget Jet in the not-too-distant future - I just feel like we need a break from nothing but consecutive posts about the same airline, and I have other things I want to cover). But it's something that's both requested and which I've wanted to talk about for some time.

In my last post I discussed the identity of the man on the Alaska Airlines tailfin. It wasn't a major part of the story, only taking up a small piece, but I did touch on how ChatGPT apparently will lie when asked about the background of the livery. Not only does it falsely attribute the livery to Fred Kabotie, who I'm sure had more important things to do, but it also falsely claims Fred Kabotie, who was Hopi, to be Tlingit. As it turns out, though, Alaska Airlines does have a livery designed by a Tlingit artist.

image: Brandon Farris

Crystal Kaakeeyáa Rose Demientieff Worl is a Tlingit artist known for large public artwork which heavily incorporates indigenous artistic traditions and visual motifs across many mediums. Some of her previous work includes large-scale murals in Alaska and throughout the world and guardrail panels at Juneau International Airport. She feels like the most natural choice possible to design an airliner livery, given the scale and diverse canvases she works with, and in May of this year the airplane you can see looming behind her was unveiled in a brand new livery that I, and a lot of other people, immediately fell in love with.

It's safe to say that this is one of the most ambitious and unique special liveries out there. Xáat Kwáani (which means 'salmon people' in Tlingit) is a beautiful and one-of-a-kind take on the often-noticed resemblance airplanes have to fish.

Salmon fishing is huge in Alaska, both now and historically. Today fishing is a major part of the Alaskan economy and something many people making a living off, but historically they were even more directly responsible for making the difference between life and death for those who lived beside them. A major source of food, they were literally life-bringing to indigenous societies, necessary to survival. Humans and salmon were part of the same ecosystem.

Independent of this fact, airplanes seem to lend themselves to comparisons to sea creatures. They may be called 'birds', but time and time again other people confirm that I'm not just imagining it, they do distinctly look like cetaceans and fish. Very early on in this blog the fact that 747s look like Humphead Wrasse was discussed. Amakusa Airlines, Japan Transocean Air, and Southwest Airlines have all leaned into this fish resemblance, and I'm sure over time my sea creature plane tag will continue to grow. This genre of livery will never cease to delight me.

I think it's fairly predictable that I always loved N559AS, the brilliantly named salmon-thirty-salmon plane. I was devastated when I learned that the livery was going to be removed. I mean...just look at her.

The salmon-thirty-salmon was a very unconventional take on the fish-plane, using a much more realistic drawing than any other attempt. It doesn't even try to transform the plane itself into the fish, which I think is potentially a smart way of accepting the limits of doing so. Instead, it fully displays the honestly hilarious and adorable face that salmon have while providing a nice canvas, a bit of water for the salmon to be carried on. At the same time it incorporates thoughtful details like the scales on the interior winglets, and the way the salmon's body is aligned with the empennage and nose feels very precisely done. It can create a somewhat uncanny doubling effect from a few angles, but by no means is it enough to rob the livery of its charm or elegance.

The salmon-thirty-salmon gets an A.

I've lived near the ocean my whole life. I love fish. I loved this plane. I was heartbroken when I learned the livery was going to serve its final milk run before rolling into the hangar for the very last time, coming out repainted and lost forever. It's always a bitter pill to swallow when airlines retire special liveries, particularly when it involves the plane being repainted into the standard colors. A lot of other people were sad to see this design go too.

What we didn't know was that this was not the end of the salmon-thirty-salmon. She was not lost, but transformed. When she emerged from the hangar again she was not wearing Alaska Airlines' default colors but something even more eye-catching, a livery honoring the same fish but with extra layers of meaning added by means of an intricate and beautiful new design.

Costs, materials, and man-hours used to paint an airplane vary dramatically from case to case, livery to livery, model to model, airline to airline. The numbers in my description are somewhat conservative estimates used for comedic value. Alaska Airlines actually gave some numbers for Xáat Kwáani - twelve days, 117 gallons of paint. The colors used are Midnight Blue and Atlas Blue for the background, White for the fish themselves, and Pink for highlights, and a clear coat has been applied over the top in order to preserve the livery. Alaska Airlines has every intention of keeping it intact for as long as possible.

The use of colors is beautiful. The waves of darker and lighter blue keep it from ever looking too light or too dark, adjusting to the lighting in order to always remain saturated and vivid, and the irregular wave pattern keeps any part of the livery from looking static. The use of the pink as a highlight is sparing but effective. The white, though, is what makes this livery so fantastic. A central tenet of this blog is a disdain for the dominant trend of livery design in recent history, Eurowhite - that of an almost entirely white fuselage. And there is a legitimate sense of general derision for white, but it can be so powerful as a design feature. There is no contrast more powerful than a stark and complete absence, a space carved out fully from the world and color around it. It is the color of bone and snow.

The balance of each color is just perfect, the blue never overpowering the white, the white never fully blocking out the blue, the pink subtly adding depth throughout, and the shapes of the salmon are placed perfectly, not feeling cramped or confined. They are free to wander the fuselage and they have an amazing sense of movement to them, as if caught mid-leap. I've seen salmon swimming upstream to spawn, and they are so startlingly large and vivacious. The fish on this plane, though stylized, perfectly capture the way that these fish look in motion.

Formline is a style of art historically created by indigenous peoples of the Pacific Northwest coast of North America. It was a common and versatile visual element, present in everything from painting to carving to weaving. It is defined by its use of continuous, curving lines which may change in angle, width, and direction but do not terminate. Though it was diminished in quantity by suppression of indigenous culture by US and Canadian settlers it never went away, and from the second half of the 20th century onwards it has been surging back as more and more indigenous artists are able to produce and display their work. Worl has worked with formline many times before. She is quoted as saying:

Every time I looked at an Alaska plane, I couldn’t help but visualize the salmon being in formline [...] I can’t help but look at things and see how to Indigenize them.

And the idea has now come to life in this absolutely unforgettable livery. I wish I was within the range of the 737-800 from Alaska Airlines' hubs so that Xáat Kwáani could pay a visit to my home airport, because this is among the most beautiful planes in the world right now. And beyond just nice colors and pleasing shapes it represents something important - indigenous artists being given a 40-meter-long flying platform on which to honor fish which have provided countless centuries of life to the people who live beside them.

Worl's work is above and beyond what I would have ever expected for a custom airplane livery. Even the 'Alaska' wordmark is neatly incorporated into the formline, blending into the background to the point it's hard to notice in a good way.

Most liveries are designed by graphic designers and branding firms. Landor Associates design liveries and logo, but they aren't building monuments or putting their work in galleries. I don't mean to diminish their work - obviously I'm passionate about it, I have a blog about it - but it's just fundamentally different from what Worl does. It has different priorities, a different philosophy, and a different level of personal investment.

From my perspective Xáat Kwáani feels less like branding material and more like a piece of artwork. This isn't something designed to go on letterhead, to be put in a press kit, to be widely reproduced. It's something to be looked at, thought about, and remembered. This is a mural that flies.

I mean...A+, obviously.

There is just about nothing else in the sky which has the same visual power as Xáat Kwáani. As far as I'm concerned, every gallon of paint was worth it to give us this flying tribute to the people and wildlife of the state Alaska Airlines takes its name from.

#tarmac fashion week #grade: a #grade: a+#alaska airlines #special liveries #aquairium

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deus-and-the-machina · 5 months

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maybe this is a bit of a useless point to make but it does bother me sometimes that estinien’s skintone gets lightened quite a bit. I don’t necessarily blame fanartists for this bc some renders/cgi trailers make him look paler than his in game model, but I just wanted to draw some comparisons. now the lighting can vary quite a bit, but I tried finding pictures in multiple lightings for comparison

he looks a little washed out/not well lit in this image but you can still tell its the same skin tone

Furthermore, here’s him next to fourchenault, who we know is meant to be somewhat darker because his dad is louisoix.

Here they are in the endwalker trailer

I don’t think this but specifically is that bad, there’s still a notable contrast between his hair and skin tone even if it looks to be a bit more tinged pink than he usually is, but it’s still comparable to fourchenault. The render though is eeeeeeeh

his most prominent render isnt necessarily inaccurate but the lighting feels like its on full blast

The countdown art also DEFINITELY makes him look a little paler. it resembles the previous render

I also wanted to point out this happened to y'shtola too somewhat. look at her renders compared to her model compared to the end walker trailer

ike she is distinctly pinker/paler as well. im not sure how the process of making the cgi cutscenes works but im fairly sure they use different models, so I generally accept that they lost some specifics in translation. there are other differences people have pointed out such as Zenos' nose being shaped differently in the end walker trailer so its bound to happen.

Here are their figures too

yshtola has a skin tone somewhat accurate design but estinien is DEFINITELY lighter. his eyes are off too, being a weirdly deep blue when his canon eyes are grey, so again it can be chalked up to lost in translation aspects but its still disappointing to see

im not really trying to argue that estinien or yshtola aren't "white" or white passing by our standards, but they really aren't pale and its kind of weird that they often get lightened in trailers/renders in estinien's case. especially when I see so much fanart drawing estinien as super bone white pale because they're probably looking at the renders that pop up first online if you search and show his whole outfit for design reference.

I do really appreciate it when I see artists draw them darker, it makes me very happy.

#PLEASE dont clown on this post we see several much darker skinned ishgardians so 'its fantasy france' isnt an argument here. also dont come #here and act like im policing artists just by pointing out trends and the portrayal of certain characters. I mostly am talking about the #various official depictions and WHY that would lead many to draw him as so pale and why thats disappointing and jarring to me #I am maintagging this though bc I want people to see this so. saying that at my own risk lol #final fantasy xiv #ffxiv #estinien varlineau #estinien wyrmblood

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taradekker · 10 months

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How to create a happy relationship?

I used to wonder how to create a happy relationship. And then I just created it. Okay, not quite that simply. And not alone. It required several (a dozen?) years of continuous learning and drawing conclusions from trials and errors in relationships with other people. Anyway, I can definitely say now "Yes, I'm happy in a relationship with Jarek." And it's up to us how we go on. With the knowledge and experience that I now have, I can see that creating a successful relationship required (and still requires) a lot of self-awareness, openness of both me and my partner, and constant work to build every day what is good between us and appreciate what we've done so far. According to Niomi relationships can be a source of both happiness and sadness. Toxic relationships are a reality to be aware of.

HOW TO CREATE A HAPPY RELATIONSHIP - IMPORTANT AREAS

The starting point for thinking about how to create a happy relationship is knowing what happiness in a relationship means to you. Perhaps you intuitively feel that you know, but if you were to write it down on a piece of paper or tell someone what image you have before your eyes, it would be difficult for you to do so. Therefore, I encourage you to read the article on this topic and do the exercises that are contained in it. Or maybe you're already fully aware of what a happy relationship means to you - then I invite you to look at a few areas that I know, partly from research and partly from my own experience, that affect the feeling of happiness in a relationship.

SIMILAR VALUES AND GOALS

Similar values are definitely my number 1 when it comes to a happy relationship. You can find out how to discover your values here . Couples with different education, personality and sometimes even interests can have a healthy and warm relationship - what matters is that they have common values and goals. Couples of different religions or cultural backgrounds can be happy with each other - what makes their relationship good is the common value of faith. Research shows that people with the same spiritual or religious orientation declare a higher level of satisfaction with their relationship and family than people with different orientations .

EMPATHY AND HONEST COMMUNICATION

youtube

One of the most important areas that answers the question "How to create a happy relationship" is good communication between partners.

The first element of this good communication is empathy . The term is commonly used to refer to two distinctly different phenomena: affective response to the situation of others and role-taking associated with the cognition process. Put simply, empathy can be understood as an emotional reaction (e.g. a friend is sad, she cried because of a difficult situation at work and I also start to feel sad about it) or as an understanding of another person (I understand their situation and emotions, but I don't feel). Understanding (or at least trying to) the other person is particularly important in relationship communication.

SIMILAR INTERESTS

For a long time, in the press, literature or ordinary discussions between people, there has been a fight about whether relationships of opposites attracting each other work better or maybe people who have a lot in common 🙂 And although opposites can undeniably stimulate and develop, we do well common passion or minor hobby. It is worth looking for them and cherishing them. It's not about us becoming like Siamese twins and spending 100% of our free time together 😉 Each of us is different, has our own interests that we may want to leave for ourselves to have something "own". It's healthy. However, discovering activities that bring pleasure to both parties, arouse curiosity about each other and each other's thoughts can only work to the advantage.

#Youtube

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maxwell-grant · 3 years

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Having asked your thoughts on designing Frankenstein's daemon, might I now ask your thoughts on bringing Count Dracula from the written word into illustration? (I'm definitely in favour of the 'Hairy Old Mountain Man of Horror pretending he's people' look from the original novel; one of the small tests too many Draculas fail to pass is an absolutely tragic lack of the Evil Beard and/or Wicked Moustache explicitly described by Mr Stoker).

Unlike with Frankenstein, where I think the design needs to be painstakingly thought out in order to achieve the best balance of the creature's traits for horror and tragedy alike, I think with Dracula you can actually just take an approach of "whatever works". Because as I mentioned before, I think much of the appeal and longevity of Dracula is how the character's both a layered villain as well as a shapeshifting narrative force that can be tailored to whatever you want to do with. Granted, there are bad or dissappointing Dracula designs, of course there are, but in regards to the leeway you get for reinterpretation, you get a lot more of it with Dracula than with other literary icons.

Like with Frankenstein, I'm gonna bring up how I'd tackle a less grim, more comedy-centric Dracula first, one that's less a force of horror and more of a charismatic villain, and I think to that end I definitely agree that people are sleeping a lot on the hairy old man barely-passing-off-as-humanoid of the original story. Despite very much loving these performers, I'm actually not a fan of takes that mold Dracula too closely to people who've portrayed him, like Bela Lugosi and Christopher Lee, partially because I think it's a waste of an opportunity to create your own Dracula design. Since I can't draw (yet), I'll do what I usually do and make a board of images to try and convey some of my thoughts on one way I'd design Dracula.

(Pictured: Kiwi's design for Dracula, Hotel Transylvania concept art, Nandor, Castlevania Dracula, Charles Dance in Dracula Untold, Vladislav, a Transylvanian rug)

I used the images in my other Dracula post and I’ll post it here again because I absolutely adore @kiwibyrd's designs for Dracula and it's main heroes, in particular I love the way it strikes a good balance at making sure Dracula looks distinctly separate from the humans, but not too much that he couldn't conceivably operate in society as just a harmless old man. I also adore the mustache and bushy eyebrows and pointy ears and I think these three are wonderful features to keep on any Dracula design. I'm also very partial to the Hotel Transylvania concept art, even if it makes me incredibly depressed to look at all the great designs they had for Dracula that they threw in the trash because they somehow decided making him look like Adam Sandler was the idea to go with.

I deeply adore What We Do In The Shadows, both the movie and the show, and Jemaine Clement's Vladislav is one of my favorite (maybe even my actual favorite) on-screen Draculas. But I also enjoy Nandor just as much, and I think it's really great that as a character he's completely different from Vlad while also being ostensibly a take on Dracula, and in particular I bring up his Jersey look because "Dracula in common clothing" is a criminally underrated concept for a joke.

As a character, I'm very partial to comedy takes on Dracula that play him up as a decadent aristocratic supervillain, the kind that can get away with talking in third person. I also have this idea for a version of Dracula who dresses ostentatiously in finely-broidered Romanian or Transylvanian patterns, maybe even wearing a rug as a cape, claiming that he's carrying the legacy of his people on his back. And of course he's lying, he's not Vlad Tepes and he's not even Romanian, he is just a parasite pretending to have a history to be proud of, but good luck getting him to admit that. And finally, I'd like this version to be played by Charles Dance, and I consider it a tremendous crime against humanity that he has yet to play Dracula proper even despite being in a film with the character's name on the title.

So that's kinda how I would design a take on Dracula for something more comedic or more based around him as this guest character and personality on-set. Now, if we're talking a more serious version, I think the possibilities increase, and I won't be getting into all of them because I may prefer to keep them to myself, but I'll elaborate a few ideas.

For example, the edition of Dracula I personally own comes with these really scratchy, really creepy B&W illustrations related to the story, that I can't find scanned online so I'm uploading them here so you can look at. They don't necessarily depict the scenes but rather some of the story's moments, like Van Helsing staking Lucy, Renfield in a straightjacket, Dracula as a coachman, and they are more focused on conveying the horror of the concepts at play.

Dracula never looks the same way in any of the illustrations, in fact you kinda have to piece him out of them by trying to find teeth or capes or eyes or bat-features to see where he's hiding this time. In the first, it's the half-man half-bat, in the 2nd, he's the shrieking bat silhouette next to Renfield, and in the latter, he's the gaping jaws and eerily humanoid eyes in the wolf. The effect to me almost feels like if you were to look at a bunch of tv static and then see a humanoid shape form for a split second before everything went back to normal, something like you'd get from Slender Man or other modern creepypastas, and I’ve argued before that Dracula’s form of horror is a very modern one.

In terms of illustrations of Dracula that keep up the original traits while still pulling off horror, I definitely have to hand it to the one at the left of the image above, drawn by regourso on Deviantart (account deleted at present). Going back to Castlevania’s many takes on Dracula, two in particular that stick out to me would be Castlevania: Judgment’s armored dress Dracula, who’s got this great twisted heart/rose motif going on in his outfit, and Dracula’s final form in SOTN where he just sits in his throne and his cape twists into all these monsters, particularly how it’s depicted by witnesstheabsurd’s depiction.

I’m not particularly a fan of how Dracula’s “final form” in these games is usually just some big demon, and part of what I like about his final form in SOTN instead is that, while it’s not a particularly challenging final boss, I do find it interesting the idea of us never actually getting to see what Dracula’s true final form looks like, only an ever-shifting pitch-black torrent of teeth and claws and bloody veins pouring out because that’s ultimately what Dracula is and brings to the world.

On the flip-side of the rotten old monster, we have the charming seductor Dracula, and while I’m really not a fan of how various adaptations have convinced people that “the point” of Dracula is that he’s a seductive force and an allegory for Victorian xenophobia and I’m reeeally even less of a fan of adaptations that make Dracula some misunderstood tragic hero (and I think I’ve made rather violently clear my feelings on interpretations that play up a romance between him and Mina), that the seductive force part exists is impossible to deny, so conversely, while on one hand we can have Dracula as the gargantuan whirlwind of predatory violence, we can also go for Dracula as the tantalizing lover.

I’ve seen a lot of opinions proclaiming Frank Langella as the best Dracula because he was the best at actually being seductive while still playing Dracula, although I haven’t yet seen his performances. If I had to point at one picture I look at and do buy for a second the idea of Dracula as a romantic character, it would be that particular still of Raul Julia in the left of the above image. And it’s strange for me to think of Raul Julia as attractive because I mainly associate him with his brilliant comedy performance of M.Bison (I know it’s far from the highlight of his career but, look, I grew up with Street Fighter, I can’t help it) but those eyes are definitely looking pretty convincing to me, if nothing else.

And I’ve included this still of Sebastian Stan in the right because, during a conversation between me, @krinsbez and @jcogginsa about who could be a good fit for Dracula, jcog suggested Sebastian Stan, partially because he’s Romanian, and I’ve learned recently that Stan was actually interested in playing the character in Blumhouse’s upcoming remake. And you’d think I’d hate this idea considering how much I don’t care for tragic anti-hero Draculas, but who says that’s what he’d have to play?

Do you have any idea how much actors, who are traditionally known for heroic or supporting roles, usually LOVE it when you give them a chance to cut loose as the main villain?

I’d want Sebastian Stan to put all of his charm, all of his talent, all of his good looks and etc, into playing the absolute most vicious, bloodthirsty and irredeemable Dracula put on screen. Someone who is exceedingly, eerily good at being a lovable protagonist, who’s all smiles and charming eyes and politeness mannerisms and maybe even a funny accent, and then it isn't as funny when he's flying through your window intent on kidnapping babies to feed to his brides, except he may take a moment or two to do so because he's feeling pretty hungry himself right now.

Now, admittedly this is kind of a lot to juggle in regards to a single character, which is why my answer for questions like these inevitably has to be “depends on what I’m going for”. That being said, if I was going to try and cast someone who I think could both look the part of Dracula, as well as respectively, play “cartoon aristocrat” Dracula, “mercurial embodiment of evil” Dracula, as well as realistically be an attractive, even seductive performer who can charm viewers even as the character descends into horrible villainy, and juggle these performances even?

I think I’d have to go with Mads Mikkelsen. Not specifically because of Hannibal (I actually haven’t watched it yet), although it’s definitely a factor, the thing that actually made me pick him specifically is, other than his looks, his voice, his reputation for playing sinister characters, the fact that he loves the role and wants to play it, or how many people are deeply in love with this man, or that people already joke that he looks like a vampire, was watching him in Another Round, and specifically that glorious final scene where he’s just dancing to his heart’s content and just, moving with such spring in his step and such joyful vitality even though he’s past his mid-fifties, and that was the moment where, in regards to how much you all love this man, I went

And now I am going to add “casting Mads Mikkelsen as a dancing Dracula” to The List of Reasons Why I Became a Filmmaker.

#replies tag #dracula #horror tag #bram stoker #charles dance #sebastian stan #mads mikkelsen #castlevania #raul julia #wwdits #what we do in the shadows #vladislav #nandor

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buckybabybaby · 3 years

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café d'amour

A/n: my entry to @firefly-in-darkness 's challenge. Thank you for letting me enter! I left it to the last minute once again, but! This time it's not late so... fingers crossed next time I'm early xxx

Proof read with a text-speech device.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/reader (gender neutral)

Word count: 3537

Warnings: none! :]

Plot: Maybe covering a friends shift in a city park coffee kiosk won't be too bad if it means running into a certain super soldier.

coffee-shop sort of au, fluff and more fluff.

Masterlist

*****

The machine humming quietly in the corner of the tiny hut seems to be mocking you, a constant reminder of just how out of your depth you are. People who think working in a coffee shop, or in your case, a take-out kiosk, is easy, should try it for a day and see if their opinion changes. This is so far away from your usual job, safe and warm re-shelving books in the colleges library, but a promise is a promise, so you've just got to suck it up for the next few weeks and hope you don't mess anyone’s orders up too badly.

Peter is going to owe you big time after this.

When he'd asked you to cover for him in his small business, you had agreed without properly thinking about what time of year it is, and how cold the wind can be when you're stood still in it for hours on end. Two days in and your hands have aged about ten years from the combination of frequent washing and the icy air, and the layers of thermals you've got on under your uniform fleece and matching joggers are making you look a little rounder than you actually are, you couldn't care less though as long as you are warm. The water heater provides a little warmth, leaking through to your skin if you press up against it, but you've found the best way to escape the freezing gusts is to crouch down below the counter when the queues have diminished.

That's where you are now, half heartedly straightening the packets of treats, getting distracted by the many different types of cookies and brownies, and not keeping an eye out for potential customers.

“Hello? Is this self-serve or what?”

The voice startles you, so close without warning, almost like they crept up on you. Hopping up quickly, you hover your hands under the sanitiser and rub them together as you collect yourself and prepare your speech.

“Hello! Sorry! Hello,” You start again, marginally calmer, “Welcome to-”

That's as far as you get, not even able to ask what they 'fancy today?' before the customer interrupts.

“Just a coffee. Black. No fancy milks or syrups or anything, no cakes or anything extra. Just coffee, okay?”

Finally looking up from your now dry hands, you take in the man who has placed such a blunt order. He's attractive enough, the little you can see underneath his hat, something about him familiar to you, his tone definitely one you've got used to over the past day or so, though he's not anywhere close to the rudest person you've served.

You smile pleasantly, in the disarming way you've learnt. “Okay, just coffee, got it. And a name for the cup?”

He looks around at the lack of other customers. “Is that necessary?”

Laughing self-consciously, you say, “Probably. If it gets busy I'd hate for it to get mixed up. I'm new.”

“Ah.” He tuts. “James.”

“James, cool. That'll be a few minutes.”

As you grab a pen to write his name on the sleeve of a cup, he shuffles off to the side, adjusting his hat as he does, and when his coat slips a bit down his left arm your mind goes blank. He's not paying attention to you so your staring goes unnoticed as you realise why you thought he was familiar earlier, wondering how it didn't click when he said his name, but then again wrapped up in his scarf and gloves it's not surprising. You're guessing he doesn't want to be recognised right now, hence the use of his real, less known name, so before he can catch your mild freak-out you look away and messily scribble on the side of his cup.

Even a simple order can be a struggle for you, and now, slightly flustered from serving the Winter Soldier, you make sure to double check the measurements before you start, concentrating hard to make the greatest cup of coffee he's ever had. There's a reason this kiosk has a reputation for the best hot drinks in the park and you aren't about to ruin it by messing up the order of Captain America's best friend.

Breathing a sigh of relief as you place the lid on top of the perfectly brewed coffee, you tap it against the table to get his attention. “Here you go. The machines ready.”

Pulling his hands out of his pockets, he swipes his card to pay then grabs the cup off the counter, murmurs something that could have been a 'thanks' and takes off along the dim path leading him deeper into the park.

“Well.” Huffing as you lean against the glass front of the booth, you watch his retreating form with a small frown. He wasn't anything like you thought he might. The media has built him up to be some sort of tragic figure, one to be feared and pitied in equal measure, but all you saw was yet another city dweller on a quest for caffeine.

At least now you have a story to tell from your time working in the coffee kiosk, aside from the ones about frozen fingers and half-spilt drinks.

*****

The next day he's back, around the same time in the afternoon, as the daylight is dying and the street lights are flickering into life, about an hour before closing. You're finishing up a complicated order for a group of friends when you notice him standing away from the small crowd, waiting for them to leave before he approaches.

“I want a coffee like yesterday,” He says, adding as though an after thought, “Please.”

“One black coffee?” You confirm.

He nods, watching closely as you locate the pen to write on his cup. Before you can even open the cap, he's butting in. “Why don't you have a name tag?”

You freeze, confused. Meeting his eye, you flush under the intense way he's staring you down. “Why don't I-?”

“You see, I have a very good memory, despite my age. I distinctly remember telling you my name is James, so imagine my surprise seeing my nickname written on my cup when I looked properly.”

His expression is not giving away any clues on how he feels about this invasion of privacy. Heart racing, you search for the right words to apologise, and convince him you're not some crazy stalker.

There's no chance to speak as he's continuing. “So I thought I'd come back today and find out your name, then we'd be even. But you don't have a badge on. Why not?”

“I'm so sorry,” You breathe, unsure what more you can say. “I swear I'm not a weirdo, I just recognised you yesterday and I must have written the wrong name by accident.” A beat of silence, then you propose a way to make it right, “How about free coffee for life?”

He laughs, a glorious sound in the crisp air, and your shoulders relax at the genuinely happy noise. “Aren't you new? Are you allowed to make promises like that?”

Wincing, you admit, “Probably not. But when I explain it to Peter I'm sure he'll understand.”

“Peter?”

You start working on his drink as you talk. “He owns this place. And normally works this shift, I'm only covering whilst he's away.”

“Oh.” The hissing of steam drowns out his next sentence, you only catch the last half, “-here how long?”

“Couple of weeks, maybe? Not too long hopefully. You'll have a professional barista back soon, don't worry.”

“I think you're doing fine.”

The words are spoken so softly, such a contrast from how you thought this conversation would end, and the shock has you fumbling with the finished cup of coffee, nearly spilling the scolding liquid all over your fingers.

“Careful.”

Taking the cup from you, his hand lingers against yours for a moment too long and you force yourself to stand up straighter and away from his touch. The last thing you want is to become a horrible cliché, falling for a customer after a few sweet lines.

He grabs a few napkins to wipe the cup dry, then looks expectantly at the card machine.

“I meant it, free for life,” You say, determined.

Shaking his head, he roots around in his pockets, pulling out a couple of notes and sliding them across the counter towards you. “Old fashioned money it is then. I didn't mean to come across as angry earlier, or yesterday, thinking about it. Sorry about the whole,” He waves his hand around vaguely, “Murderous vibe I give off, or whatever Sam calls it.”

He rolls his eyes fondly when talking about his team mate, and you giggle as you reassure him. “You didn't look murderous, just a bit like you might sue me.”

“Ugh.” He wrinkles his nose. “Not really my style.”

Your bank balance is thankful. “And to answer your question, I'm Y/N.”

Blowing on to the top of his drink, he takes several steps back, all whilst keeping eye contact. “Well then Y/N, I guess I'll see you tomorrow.”

“I'll be here.”

With that, Bucky waves goodbye with a wide smile, disappearing into the dusk as you wonder just how much trouble he's going to be.

*****

The kind of trouble you don't mind, you find out when you run in to him again the next day, a lot earlier than you imagined. In an attempt to keep yourself warm for the long hours stood in the open, with only a waist high counter between you and the frozen air, you've taken to walking around the park before you are due to start, so the heat generated by the exercise keeps you warm for at least a proportion of your shift.

The sunshine is deceptive this afternoon, doing nothing to raise the temperature as you wander around the edge of the lake. Lost in thought, a sudden shout from behind makes you jump.

“Hey, Y/N! Wait up.”

Turning around, you struggle to place the voice as you scan the few people also on this side of the park. None of them are even looking in your direction, let alone trying to draw your attention, and you're about to continue on your way thinking you must have misheard when a body nearly crashes into yours. This is not an image you ever thought you would see; the Winter Soldier panting to catch his breath after jogging up to you, all because you're on first name terms and not because you've suddenly turned to a life of crime.

“Bucky?”

At your bemused tone, his face drops. “Sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt. If you want to be alone, I can go, I just thought-”

“No! No, it's okay. I don't mind a bit of company.”

You share a smile, and he lets you take the lead back along the small track, winding its way between the trees and the water.

He breaks the silence a few meters along. “So, what do you normally do?”

“Me? Err,” You pause, trying to think of how to make yourself sound interesting to someone who spends his life side by side with superheroes and literal gods. Sighing in defeat as you conclude you're always going to be boring in comparison, you mumble, “I work in the library where I'm also a student.”

Bucky doesn't appear to think you're dull. “That's cool!” He says, like he means it. “I miss being in school.”

“So did I, so when I got the chance I went back. I'm a bit older than most of the students-”

He snorts. “I know how that feels.”

“But I'm determined to get my degree this time.”

“I'm sure you will.” He grins at you and you're inexplicably filled with hope that he's right. “And after? Do you know what you want to do once you've graduated?”

You shake your head. “Right now all I'm focused on is passing exams and submitting essays on time. I'll think about the future when it's closer.”

“That's fair. Nothing wrong with waiting to figure things out.” More reassurance from this relative stranger. You didn't know how much you needed it until just now.

“Most people say I need a ten year plan or something.”

“Most people are wrong. But,” He pauses, and you hold your breath as you anticipate his words. “Can I suggest if you go into business, maybe don't start off by offering life time free supplies at the drop of a hat?”

Two minutes in to this 'friendship' and he's already teasing you? What is going on? Turning your face away so he can't see your stupid grin at this turn of events, you really would believe this is some sort of perfect daydream if it wasn't for the all too real frozen mist clinging to your coat and the ends of your hair.

“I'll try to remember that, thanks.”

Dodging a puddle in the middle of the path, you're trying to come up with a witty retort to impress him when your phone buzzes in your pocket.

“If you need to get that-”

“Oh, no. It's only my alarm to remind me not to wander too far from work before I need to start.”

“Soon?”

“Yeah.”

“I'll walk you back, then.”

Not wanting to leave his side quite yet, you let him accompany you back through the trees, but you refuse his offer to carry you across a muddy part of the path where the stream has burst it's banks. Flushing as he laughs at your careful steps, you manage to get across without completely ruining your shoes, informing him you've learnt the hard way that these trails aren't exactly 'white trainer friendly' as the kiosk looms into view.

Relieving the worker from the morning shift, you rearrange the counter back to the way you like it before any customers turn up, watching Bucky hovering nearby until you give him a questioning look.

He clears his throat. “If I came this way the same time tomorrow, would I bump into you then?”

The hopeful look he gives you would be enough for you that, even if this walk wasn't part of your daily routine already, you would have made it so in order to see his again.

“Uh huh. Are you planning too?”

“Whenever I come with Sam, we always end up getting recognised with the way he can't keep his voice down. It's nice not having that sort of attention. So if you don't mind?”

“I don't mind.” A patron approaches and reluctantly you turn away, sending a quiet promise to your new friend. “See you tomorrow, Bucky.”

*****

The days past so fast now they're full of work, both at the kiosk and in the library, trying to study, and, most importantly, walking with Bucky every afternoon. Some days the two of you talk the whole way, conversation flowing so easily you're amazed at how honest you are, like you've never been with anyone before, and other days you walk together in relative quiet, completely comfortable in each others presence.

Falling for him is the quickest and easiest thing you've ever done. Dealing with your feelings, however, might be somewhat harder.

With the lighter evenings comes the message that Peter is finally on his way home and soon you'll be free of your second job. It feels like a bolt from the blue, to be reminded that this is only temporary and in not too long you will no longer have an excuse to see Bucky.

You mention it to him a week before your last shift.

“Isn't that good?”

“I guess.” Your reply is short and unenthusiastic, changing the subject quickly to hide how heartbroken you are.

Time moves too fast, and before you know it you're greeting him on that last day, taken aback as he presents you with a small cardboard box, which when you take it, is much heavier than it looks. “Natasha gave it to me for you. Apparently it's really good for your hands. I thought you could try it? Now you won't have to wash them constantly?”

Scanning the sides reveals that it contains a moisturiser, from some luxury brand you've never even thought to try, too far out of your price range. “Oh, this is too much, I can't take-”

“Yes you can.”

“Let me give you something-”

Gently tugging your hand back out of your bag, he stops you from grabbing your purse by enclosing his gloved fingers around yours. When he doesn't let go, instead pulling you along and down towards your now usual route, you let him, gaping at the back of his head before coming to your senses and squeezing his hand in a kind of thanks.

“This is a very kind present.”

He shrugs it off. “It's nothing. When it's your birthday or something, then I'll get you a proper present. Presents, plural,” He emphasises as your eyes widen at the thought. “Nah, this is just one of the hundreds of products Natasha gets sent in the vain hope she'll provide the companies with some free advertising. Better you have it than it go to waste.”

It still feels like a gift to you. “Well then, thank you for thinking of me.”

“Always.” The implication of that one word would have been entirely missed if it wasn't for the panicked look on Bucky's face as he corrects himself. “I... I mean, of course.”

Stopping in the middle of the path, your joined hands cause him to halt too and the atmosphere grows tense as you stare at each other, unsure where to start. The minutes haven't stopped ticking down until you're due on your last shift, and with the implication that comes with hanging over you like a dark cloud, now seems just as good a time as any to bring it up.

You hesitantly begin. “Bucky, can I say something?”

Mutely, he gestures for you to proceed.

“Right, so you know today's my last day at the kiosk, at least until Peter goes away again, so, that means I won't have a reason to walk around here any more. Or I won't, unless...”

“Unless?”

“Unless I do. Unless you still want to come around the park with me, even if it's for no more reason than simply going for a walk?”

“I'd love that.”

The relief that flows though you as he agrees is almost physical, gripping onto his hand in yours just a little tighter.

Feeling brave, you dare to push your luck. “And if it was more than just a walk?”

It takes a moment, but then you see the realisation dawning on his face, a slow smirk appearing as he takes a step into your space. “More?”

You know he knows what you mean, that he's playing with you. That doesn't soothe your doubts though, hoping beyond hope that you're not misinterpreting his teasing.

“Yeah. More.”

Letting go of your hand in order to bring one arm around your waist and pull you closer, your own come to rest against his lapels as he dips his head down.

“I think I'd like more,” He whispers.

You swallow as his gaze slips to your mouth, sinking in his embrace as his lips brush against yours, so soft and brief it barely registers,

Moving back to put a bit of room between the two of you, his thumb brushes over the corner of your mouth as you pout sadly.

“You can have another one once you've finished tonight. Maybe. Or maybe you'll have to wait until after our date tomorrow.”

You frown. “Tomorrow?”

“Yep. If you're free?”

“Always.” Repeating his earlier phrase with a sly smile, you turn around to continue along the track, leaving him speechless for a second before he rushes to fall into step.

His arm slides through yours. “So, is it okay to wait for you tonight?”

“You've just kissed me and you're still asking that?”

“I'm just checking.” When you don't answer he presses, “Is it? I don't want to impose.”

'Too late for my heart', you think but don't say, not wanting to scare him off, instead nodding in reply and leaning into his side as you wind your way through the woodland path. The fear you had felt this morning at potentially having to say goodbye to Bucky feels like a distant memory, and as you watch the sunlight dance across his hair you realise you could never have let today be the last. You started this job reluctantly and now, instead of Peter owing you for the favour, it seems you owe him.

Peter doesn't needs to know just yet, you decide.

That usually particularly muddy part of the path has become even muddier after the overnight rain, and this time you allow him to pick you up in his arms and carry you across, feeling its finally appropriate now your relationship has changed. Setting you down on the other side, he presses a kiss to your forehead almost absent-mindedly, and your tummy does a flip as you take a second or two to admire his profile.

You sigh happily. So much for not becoming a cliché.

*****

Thank you for reading!! Masterlist

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #buckybabybaby

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happyandticklish · 3 years

Text

I Want To See You Smile - Part One

Notes: I decided to write something for the Gorillaz fandom, because I have fallen suddenly back into obsession over the band and needed to get it out of my system. I also would like to add that the fic holds some problematic themes concerning abuse, and that I am both aware of these themes and am working through them carefully. That being said, I hope you all enjoy!

Summary: After a fateful encounter one day, Murdoc finds himself addicted to tickling his bandmate and doesn’t know why. 2D’s adorable reactions certainly aren’t helping.

Murdoc wasn’t sure what was wrong with him. His face was flushed, his head was spinning, his heart was jackhammering wildly in his chest; all this from a chance encounter in the living room.

Maybe he was dying. He would have preferred that, honestly, to whatever the fuck this was.

He had discovered 2D’s body sprawled out lazily on their beaten up couch, gangly limbs thrown haphazard over its surface. In one of Murdoc’s hands was a bottle of something toxic he had just conjured up in the kitchen and in the other a journal in which he had planned to write either lyrics or obscene drawings in—he hadn’t quite decided which. Still, he couldn’t do either with the blue-haired idiot dozing off and claiming all the available seating space.

“Hey,” he said, slanting his eyes down in annoyance. “Dents. Move it.”

2D mumbled something indistinguishable in his sleep, but otherwise didn’t move. Murdoc frowned. He must really be out of it. Still, Murdoc had a mission and he wasn’t about to give up on it now. He leaned down, gripping his sides for a handhold as he attempted to shove him off. As he did, however, 2D shifted and squirmed under his touch, one hand unconsciously coming down to shove his hand away. Murdoc ignored him, readjusting his grip and tugging at his limp form. This time 2D let out a sleepy giggle, swatting at his hands once more.

“Stop,” he muttered incoherently. “It tickles.”

Murdoc’s eyes widened with realization. Ah. So that’s why he’d been acting so weird. He started to move his hands away, when an idea occurred to him—another way to get him to move. He smirked, keeping his hands on hips and squeezing with more purpose this time.

“C’mon 2D,” he teased in a low whisper. “I need to get on this couch.”

2D was moving more now, soft, breathy laughs echoing from his vocal chords, still not fully awake yet. If he was this ticklish asleep, Murdoc couldn’t imagine what he would be like awake. He squeezed again and again, poking and prodding at this one spot on his hips that had 2D spazzing. Finally, 2D’s eyes fluttered open and his frown of confusion quickly turned into a silly grin at the sensations dancing upon his skin.

“M-Muhuds?” he asked, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. “W-Whahat are yohou d-dohoing?”

“Getting you to move.”

“C-Cohouldn’t yohou h-hahave juhuhust ahahasked mehehe?”

“Eh. This was more fun.”

2D groaned sleepily, tired giggles slipping out unwarranted. That one spot on his hips, pursued relentlessly, was quickly becoming unbearable and his hands came down again to shove Murdoc off. Unfortunately, his grip wasn’t strong enough and he held onto Murdoc’s wrists uselessly. “Hehehe, ahaha, muhuhuds!”

“Hmm?”

“Ihihit—” 2D broke off, the tickling spiking suddenly and prompting a squeak from the man. “Ihihit tihihickles!”

“Does it now?” Murdoc teased, scratching his nails against the soft divot of skin contained there. “Well that’s quite an unfortunate situation, isn’t it?”

“Ah! Ohohohokay, ohohokay, I’ll mohohove!” 2D agreed eagerly, shoving desperately at his hands.

“Nah, I think it’s a bit too late for that now.” Murdoc hoisted a leg over him on the couch so he was no effectively straddling the other. “I’m having too much fun to stop now, and I think you need to learn your lesson about listening right away.”

“Buhuhut yohou dihihidn’t ahahask—ahaha, nohohoho, ehehe, stahahap!”

2D fell into quick hysterics as Murdoc began ruthlessly pursuing his hips now, one hand on either side. 2D scrabbled fruitlessly to shove his hands off and when that failed he resorted to frantic squirming and writhing underneath him instead. “Wow, dents,” he muttered with a sarcastic leer. “I didn’t realize you were this sensitive. I’ll have to remember this for the future.”

“Stahaha—ahaha, ehehe, nohoho! Ihihi tihihickles tohohoo muhuhuch!” 2D’s laughter soon became a breathless stream of giggles, interspersed with hiccups here and there as he fought to control his body’s reactions. As Murdoc watched him, a strange flush began to creep its way up his neck and his stomach writhed with unexplained nerves. This was different from all those times he had tormented 2D in the past. This was something new and altogether unnerving, and Murdoc didn’t like it one bit. But even as he was tempted to stop, the sight of 2D begging and laughing under him was too appealing to quit now.

“You know, I distinctly remember Noodle being veeeery ticklish here when she was younger.” Murdoc secured one of his wrists in his hands, dragging it far above his head. “I wonder if it’s the same for you.”

2D’s eyes widened and his struggling increased, giggling apprehensively as Murdoc’s fingers wiggled towards his defenseless pit.

“No, no, please, wait, no mohoHOHOHohore!”

2D shrieked when his fingers finally made contact, tugging frantically at his trapped arm. The other arm did its best to try to fend Murdoc off, but he would simply switch to a different spot until 2D moved to protect there instead; the second he did, however, Murdoc would simply move back to his underarms and the cycle would repeat once more.

Red-faced, writhing and babbling out incoherent pleas, 2D was quite a sight. Murdoc found himself so caught up in it that he hadn’t realized how intense he had gotten until 2D let out a frantic shriek and finally pulled his arm free. The sound snapped Murdoc out of his haze and he quickly rolled off the other, head spinning.

2D curled up on the couch, residual laughter spilling from his lips as he fought to regain some semblance of coherency. He gripped his torso protectively, skin tingling from the overload of sensation. “Hah… ha… ehehe… w-whahat was that?”

Murdoc had no answer, only that he needed to leave for fear of tickle jumping the poor man again. So instead he merely grunted, snatching up his alcohol and journal and stalking out the doorway, trying with everything in him to get the image of 2D in that helpless, strangely appealing state out of his head. 2D watched him go, confusion and leftover bliss swirling over his features.

Murdoc would have been happy to write that moment off as a one-off mess-up, a momentary lapse in judgement, had it not happened again after that. And again. And again. Every time he saw 2D, which was often when the band was squished together as it was, all he could think about was digging his fingers into his sides if only to hear that adorable yelp again.

His excuses were getting weaker as time went on, as well. “Wait, no, please!” 2D pleaded, noticing the fateful smirk on the other’s face as he backed him up against the wall. He had messed up some lyric or another during rehearsal, which at this point was all the justification Murdoc needed. The others looked on in confusion as 2d quickly fell into hysterics, Murdoc pinning him against the wall with his onslaught of tickling.

“Guhuhuys!” 2d cried, giggling wildly as Murdoc poked fingers rapid-fire into his sides. “Hehehelp m-mehehe!”

“Hey Murdoc, don’t you think we should leave him alone now?” Noodle asked hesitantly. “It wasn’t really his fault—we all mess up lyrics from time to time.”

“Lyrics?” Murdoc snapped, before remembering his original reasoning for the attack. “Yeah, well, this way he’ll learn not to do it again.”

Noodle frowned but otherwise did little to help him. It wasn’t until Russel placed a hand on his shoulder that Murdoc finally backed off. “We should probably get back to practice,” he said firmly, a warning note to his voice. Murdoc scoffed, releasing the other and letting 2D crumple to the ground in a trembling ball of nerves.

“Yeah, whatever,” he muttered, sitting back down and picking up the bass. “Let’s just get this damn song over with already.”

For every grievance imaginable, throughout the course of that strange and confusing month, 2D would find himself reduced to a squirming mess of limbs at the hands of none other than Murdoc Niccals—spent too long in the shower, called him a name, wasn’t fast enough when Murdoc asked him to get out of the way, finished the last of the potato crisps. Small, unpreventable things that ultimately Murdoc only cared about because it provided such ample excuse to wreck the other.

Over the course of that month, Murdoc also spent sufficient time trying to figure out the reason for his growing obsession. Each time he thought about it, however, a hot blush crept up his neck and a world of voices screamed at him inwardly what are you doing? He didn’t know. He didn’t know what it meant, nor why it was only tickling 2D in this way that made him feel like this. He hadn’t ever experienced anything like this in the past. Sure, he had teased and poked a couple of the girls and guys he’d dated in the past, but it was always quick, fleeting touches that ended almost instantly—just something to get a reaction. Now though, it was clearly something different. The sight of 2D shrieking and writhing under him made his body react in a way that was altogether different from how you would with your platonic bandmate whom you despised.

One night he got so fed up thinking about it that he decided to give up on sleep and head out to the kitchen to make himself something to take the edge off.

Who should he find but the man of the hour himself, the blue-haired bean pole, standing at the sink and pouring himself a glass of water.

As soon as he noticed Murdoc’s presence behind him 2D startled, quickly shutting off the faucet and edging away from him. “Oh hey, muds,” he greeted, that nervous, finnicky smile already taking over his features. Murdoc jammed his hands in his pockets so he wouldn’t do anything.

“What are you doing up so late?” he grumbled, shoving past him and reaching for the various bottles of liquor littered over their countertop.

“Just getting a glass of water,” he replied cautiously. Murdoc simply grunted in response. Watching him cautiously, 2D continued to slink towards the doorway. He paused at the exit, however, hand on the doorframe. He curled his fingers in hesitation, before quickly whirling around to face the other once more.

“Aren’t you gonna…” 2D started before breaking off his sentence, clearly embarrassed.

Murdoc turned to face him, tossing back a glass of tequila—definitely not midnight appropriate, especially when he had to be up at the crack of dawn tomorrow for rehearsal. “Aren’t I gonna what?”

“You know…” 2D trailed off, blushing, before awkwardly wiggling his fingers a little as a demonstration.

That same, creeping red returned to his face and Murdoc stiffened. Still, he wasn’t about to let the little upstart get the upper hand, so he said, leaning back on the counter with fake confidence, “Why? Do you want me to?”

“No, but, I mean, not entirely—” 2D stopped himself, clearly thrown for a loop. “I just meant that usually you… you know, do that. Are you… not going to anymore?”

For some reason it hadn’t occurred to Murdoc that 2D would pick up on this recurring habit of his. To have it stated so bluntly was certainly a shock to his system. The two stood in that tiny kitchen, an uncomfortable energy in the air as the silence between them increased. Murdoc tongued the inside of his cheek, debating how to phrase his next sentence.

Before he could, 2D spoke up for him. “I don’t… uh, I don’t mind, that is.” He spoke cautiously, waiting for Murdoc to snap at him or throw something. When he did neither, 2d continued, “I prefer it, over the other stuff. Also it’s… it’s sort of fun, in a way.”

Murdoc slowly sat down his liquor bottle, narrowing his eyes at the other. “Are you saying you like it when I tickle you?”

2D shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “Sort of? I mean, it gets sort of intense sometimes, but even that’s, uh—” He pressed his lips together, evidently deciding that whatever he would have said next would only make the situation worse. “I liked it, yeah. Whenever you’re, you know, tickling me, I sort of get the feeling that you like doing it. Which in a way makes it feel like you enjoy spending time with me and that’s… nice.”

Murdoc stared at him. The confession was so brutally honest in a way that only 2D could ever pull off. For some reason, that made him angry. He took a couple steps forward and 2D instinctively scuttled backwards. “Listen. I don’t tickle you because I ‘like spending time with you’, or whatever it is you’re going on about. I was doing it because—” he broke off, sneering at his own verbal incompetence. The real reason, the reason why he couldn’t get the image of 2D laughing, 2D happy, out of his head for weeks on end, floated at the edges of his consciousness. He chose to ignore it, as he did most things that made him uncomfortable. “I did it because I fucking wanted to, alright? And it has nothing to do with you or any kind of bond you think we’ve built. I do what I like, and your job is to shut the fuck up and leave me be, got it?”

2D matched his intense glare, face darkening. Where before there had been fear in his face, now there was only resignation. “Yeah. Got it.”

He snatched his water off the table, nearly fumbling and dropping it. Luckily, he managed to catch it just in time, though not without some leftover embarrassment. His drink retrieved and his smooth exit ruined, he proceeded to stalk moodily out of the kitchen.

The second he was gone Murdoc exhaled shakily, all the fight going out of his limbs. He leaned back against the counter for support, slowly sinking down to the ground. The cold linoleum felt good against his bare skin, and he chose in that moment to forget about all the crumbs and grime most likely littering the floor.

He rubbed his heels against his temples, replaying the conversation over and over again in his head like some kind of broken record player. Which in a way makes it feel like you enjoy spending time with me… It was stupid. Murdoc had never cared about the other man’s opinion before.

So why did those words make him feel like crying?

#tickle fic #gorillaz #murdoc niccals #stuart pot #2D #2doc #fanfiction #fanfic #bands #noodle #russel hobbs #tickling

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cinanamon · 4 years

Text

ticket to hell — ml (m)

pairing | mark x reader

genre | fluff, smut, church!au

word count | 4.3K

synopsis | You knew he couldn’t be perfect because all humans sin; you just wanted to know how he did.

warning | smut: fingering, penetration, loss of virginity, unsafe sex

“Oh my God,” Mark gasped as he mouthed at your thigh, his lips glossing over the heated skin as he traced his way up from the limb and over your abdomen till he reached your lower neck. He sighed gently as he trailed butterfly kisses along your throat before kissing under your jaw sensually.

You smirked and let your hands wander over his forearms and snake under his open button-down to explore his torso. “Taking the lord’s name in vain now, I see,” you cheekily teased, quirking your brow at him.

He raised his head and chuckled as he kissed the corner of your mouth. “You’re acting like you haven’t said the same thing like ten times by now.”

You shake your head gently and linger your lips above his by a fraction as you look up into his eyes with your own lidded ones. “Well you’re just good between my legs.”

You see Mark go red before he presses his lips to yours firmly in retaliation. You feel his hands snake behind your back and you move your hands down to his belt, unbuckling it to release—

Your gaze snaps up to the stage where the priest was as everyone around you began to sing Hallelujah and stand up, leaving you to hastily copy their motions.

With a quick glance around your vicinity to make sure no one noticed your mental absence from the priest’s sermon, you realize you’re in the clear and become relieved, yet you’re annoyed that your daydream was interrupted. Sure, maybe church wasn’t the best place to have such dirty thoughts (you’d be the first to admit that), but this was also the only place you see the object of your dream’s affection. You let your gaze wander over the faces of the churchgoers before you finally see him with his parent’s in the set of pews to your right.

Mark Lee.

You had known him all your life; seeing as how his dad was choir director and your parents were the charity organizers, you’d come in contact quite often.

From playing in the church yard as children to having to sing together in the pews, he was there. Picture perfect; whereas you would try to be a good example of a child—damn, you always tried your best—Mark was always better. The lead male in the choir, the first to volunteer for the offerings or to help at the charity events.

You remember distinctly how much you hated him in middle school, the rivalry you believed you had with him (he never noticed) that caused your blood to boil whenever he was praised as the best child in the church, the most virtuous.

By now, that feeling of anger and dislike was nowhere near as strong or without reason. You weren’t as religious as you were back then, and Mark wasn’t actually that dislikeable. Quite the opposite, actually. Mark Lee was kind, helpful, responsible, funny—to anyone on the outside, he was picture perfect. But you knew one thing for certain, one thing you would prove if it was the last thing you did.

Mark Lee was no angel.

His eyes were always set on the pastor every mass, mindfully flicking to each bible verse. But you never missed how his eyes would unfocus, how’d he bite his lip, the way he’d readjust his pants. Picture perfect, they’d say. Was he? You knew he couldn’t be perfect because all humans sin; you just wanted to know how he did.

You knew you committed a sin—a heavy one at that—every time you came to church just to get lost in the idea of fucking him. Your deadly sin had to be lust, but you weren’t just going to stop fantasizing about him now; you were too far gone to be saved. Even if you did harbor a crush on the poor boy, it did nothing to lighten your sentence of a deadly sin.

And to think that you were still a virgin thinking like this? Then Mark definitely had to be. Because if you were still so frustrated even after letting yourself indulge in these thoughts, then Mark had to be close to a breaking point if he preached so much about leaving sexual urges and thoughts till marriage.

And sometimes you thought that maybe your assumptions are wrong, or you’re just reading too much into it. But, truly, Mark made eye contact with you a lot. Paired with a quick smile, but not too long after the quick interactions, a little “problem” would arise for him. And since you didn’t have as high of a reputation to maintain, you’d let your eyes linger.

Sometimes he’d catch you and he’d flush, settling the Bible squarely on his lap and bending his head deeply to read it intently. It’d cause you to smirk and your assumptions about him to gain traction which would only fuel your desires for him. You knew he still had humane urges like you, and your goal was to crack through his saintly disposition and make him yours.

But after some time of these quick suggestive looks, exchanges of smirks and raised brows, Mark finally did begin to crack.

It was subtle at first; at your simper, he’d hesitate and try his best to ignore you, forcing a frown as he faced forward and tightened his grip on his bible. Soon enough, even that resolve crumbled and he would glance at you often nervously, a smile playing at his lip and a rising fiery blush crossing his cheeks. And finally, Mark began to tease you too.

It was a few months of these fleeting moments of flirtation before Mark grew confident in returning the affections, in letting his hands linger on yours during greetings, how he’d ghost his lips over the shell of your ear during hugs, or how he’d stare at you during church, waiting for you to meet his gaze. He was into you too; you could see it. If he wasn’t ready to crack before, he was now.

Mark was more than willing to reciprocate your seductive motions and partake in your sexual, flirtatious faces and after any risky lip bite or lidded eye, he’d always look back up at you excitedly for a reaction. And if you were honest, you liked it. You liked that the star church boy wasn’t as pure as they thought, and he seemed to realize this; he only had eyes for you. It was obvious that Mark liked it too; he got a thrill out of falling from God’s grace to enjoy the worldly pleasures with you.

You began to convince your parents to sit with his family, so when you sat together, his hand would subtly linger by your thigh, gracing over it quickly— over the edge of your skirt, slipping under it briefly—before he’d snatch it back to his bible. If anyone were to see, he’d flush terribly and quickly retract, but you got a thrill out of it that you were able to get past his good boy image, as you’d stealthily meet his gaze with a secretive smile.

So the next Sunday was no different. Quick shake of the hand with the deacons then into the church you went, sitting in the pew across from Mark. You sat a few seats back, but he was in the front; only the stage was separating you. Your families smiled at each other across the distance, and Mark’s eyes glimmered as they met yours. You jokingly quirked a brow, pairing it with a playful smirk and he chuckled under his breath, sending you a knowing look as you both sat.

It’s what he did that made the service torturous. His eyes rarely left you, and you only wondered where this bout of confidence came from. You crossed your arms, ignoring the priest before you in favor of challenging him; take it farther than what you have before. He quickly glanced to his parents beside him, to the others in the row, but thankfully he was on the far end, hidden from the view of others if you didn’t look to the side of the priest.

You saw him hesitate, bite his lip, and then he looked up at you. That boyish energy vanished and he furrowed his brows, drawing his lip in farther and, with only a fleeting thought of warning, he placed a hand over his crotch. Your eyes bulged and your jaw dropped in a quiet gasp. A shiver shot down your spine, and you couldn’t believe the Mark Lee, son of the music director, was posing so lewdly in a church pew, where anyone who looked would see him. He was only in such a position for a fleeting moment, sitting back up quickly with a clearing of his throat, no evidence of what he’d done to show. The only reason you knew it happened was because of the quick smirk he shot at you; you glared, but couldn’t deny the effect it left on you.

After service ended and you entered the entrance way with your parents, your eyes instantly locked on Mark and his family coming up to you. He stood with them properly; no crease in his shirt, a belt around his pants, a polite open expression of his face, not a hair out of place. And when his eyes slid to yours, you felt a burning urge to make a mess out of him; you wanted to take it further. His pupils dilated and he seemed to have the same thought as you as he faced your parents.

“Would it be alright if your daughter came to confession with me?”

Your father smiled and patted him on the shoulder. “Of course, my boy! Rub off your good qualities on her, would you?” He laughed at that, and the other adults quickly joined in. But Mark didn’t care, neither did you, as he quickly grabbed your hand and hurried down the hallway away from the front room. You knew you weren’t really headed to confession—though you probably needed it, with the thoughts you’d been having—but it still surprised you when he made a sharp turn in the wrong direction, passing the small room. Your head was spinning; after several months of sexual innuendos and interest; were you and Mark actually about to act on it? “Mark, where—“ And he pulled open one door and pulled you in. It took your eyes a few seconds to adjust to the dark before you took notice of the tables and whiteboard. “Bible study?” You hadn’t been in here in years. You turned to look at him incredulously, causing him to flush but he didn’t let go of your hand.

“What, would you rather do it on the altar?”

He managed to quip back. It was your turn to blush as you pressed at his chest.

“That’s not what I meant!” Your confident demeanor waned as you took another glance up at his face; you tried to ease the sudden dryness of your throat. “Are you...are you serious though?”

He hesitated and you caught a glimpse of his ears turning pink, his hot breath fanned over your face as he tried to form a response. “I-Isn’t that what you meant? With all the looks, I thought...”

You nodded vigorously, heat rising to your own face. “Y-yeah! But I just.. aren’t you a virgin too?” Where was the old, vixen-like you from before?

He groaned and dropped his head onto your shoulder. “Look, I’m just going to say it but I’ve liked you for a while and I really didn’t think I’d confess to you when we’re about to have sex, but—“

Your eyes widened; so he did like you too. You felt like a teenager again; nervous, awkward, giddy. You managed to clear your throat and find a response. “You like me?”

Mark’s eyes widened and he raised his head. “Yeah? I thought you’d guess because you know I wouldn’t just do this because I could…”

You shook your head, a chuckle rising in your throat as your nerves began to dispatch. “Please just kiss me.” With a sharp intake of breath, he nodded and connected his lips with yours.

It was explosive. His lips were tentative at first—you almost wondered if he had never kissed anyone before—but he quickly took ground, adding force into the kiss and tilting his head, his hands coming to anchor your hips. You locked your arms around his neck, letting him lead the kiss at first, to get a feel of how this would go. He backed you up as you kissed, shuffling your feet till your back hit the edge of the table.

Mark disconnected from you to hoist you up, placing his hands on the edge as he dove for your neck. You instantly reached for his hair again, tugging at the dark strands as he kissed down your jaw to the curve of your neck, stopping where your skin met your blouse. This was definitely better than anything you could have imagined before, and your body began to buzz with a dull sense of pleasure.

His hands came up to the bottom of your shirt, shocking you when his hands crawled under the material and circled around your bare waist. You blushed and lifted his jaw to kiss him again; he happily obliged. This time you led, opening your mouth and conjoining your tongues. It was sloppy, granted, since neither of you had much experience, but it was a comfortable pace. You parted for air, meeting his eyes in the dark as you panted before his hands ran over your hips a couple times.

“Can I.. can I take off your shirt?” His voice was timid. You hesitated—this was real now—but nodded slowly, waiting with baited breath as the material was lifted from your torso and over your head. His breath caught as he stared at you, and you held back the urge to cover your chest. He glanced between your breasts and your face multiple times. “Can I touch you?” Your hasty nod beckoned him forward, his hand softly cupping your bra before dipping under the lace. He let out a shaky breath and you bit your lip as he played with your nipple. “Does it feel good?” His hesitance was lowering once more, instead looking at you curiously, arousal evident in the depths of his eyes.

“Y-yeah,” you managed, still not wrapping your head around what was happening. “It’s fine.” He pulled his hand away, the material slipping back into place over your breast and you almost missed the warmth of his hand.

“What would feel better?” He asked the question so openly, and it left you completely red. A fleeting question of whether he enjoyed seeing you tongue-tied now like how you did him crossed your mind, but it left just as soon as it came. You glanced down at your skirt and he seemed to get what you meant. He cleared his throat, his hand coming to squeeze his neck before he ghosted a hand over your thigh. This wasn’t like how it was in the pew; the tension was beginning to eat away at both of you. He glanced up at you for any sign of discomfort and slowly lowered to his knees.

“Getting on your knees for me now?” You stuttered a jibe.

He looked up at you in surprise before he recovered and smirked; he regained his confidence quickly, didn't he? “Just like how I do at church.” You choked and lowered your hand to tug at his hair. He quietly gasped and lifted his head towards you and before you could stop yourself, you raised him to his haunches so you could kiss him hard, biting at his bottom lip as you dragged his head away from your own. His gaze was hazy as he finally settled back down in front of you.

“Just do what you said you were going to do.”

“Of course.” He replied, coming back to his senses and with renewed confidence in both parts, he pulled at your skirt. It came off your hips as you lifted yourself, watching for his reaction at the sight of your revealed panties. He bit his lip at the sight, curious hands coming up to pet at the exposed clothing. You whimpered at the sensation, grasping at his hand before slowly letting go, letting him explore your body. He glanced up at you briefly, and since you didn’t object, he slid your panties to the side.

He seemed to hesitate, bringing his mouth close before his face flamed and he leaned back, studying your core as his fingers thumbed at it. “I’m...not sure what to do.” You relax your shoulders and chuckle at him lightly, picking up his hand tenderly. He grinned at you bashfully, and you tried not to get embarrassed and retract into yourself.

“Um, s-so this feels best, if you just flick at it, I guess?” You directed his hand to your clit, and he automatically did as you suggested and reveled in your sharp inhale. Your hand went lower and it felt harder to talk. “And here is where…”

“I got it.” He smiled at you, sensing your nervousness. He held his breath and let go of your hand, carefully placing one of his fingers on the edge of your folds. After a second, he pressed in slowly. You gasped again and he paused, looking up at you anxiously. You nodded him on, bringing a hand up to your mouth to stop yourself from scaring him again; he seemed nervous enough as it was.

When he got one finger in all the way, he waited a few seconds before trying a second. You gripped the table with your other hand and he seemed to know what to do; pulling his fingers out and pushing them back in a few times before he scissored them. You let out a mewl and you swore you saw his pants twitch from his place on the ground. That’s when you remembered he still hadn’t taken off any clothes.

“H-hey,” he slowed his pace to look at you. “Stand up.” He followed your orders cautiously, but you were surprised by the fact he still hadn’t removed his hand from inside you. Without a word, you unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it off his shoulders and over his arms, his fingers’ temporary absence leaving you feeling empty. They returned quickly and with a quick kiss to his newly exposed skin, you let your hands run over his stomach to palm him through his dress pants.

He grunted in surprise, his hips jerking into your touch and he whined in embarrassment. You giggled against his chest as you finally undid his button and zipper, the material dropped down his legs and he stepped out of them. You could see how he grew confident by touching you; by pleasuring him, that vixen in you was beginning to renew.

You tried to ignore his continuous efforts to your core as you settled a hand over his boner, evident now that the only restricting article of clothing was his black boxers. He dropped his check against your head as he watched your hands work at each other’s respective parts. You could hear his pants in your ear as you ran your hand over his clothed erection before abruptly drawing your hand under and pulling him out. He squeaked and almost backed up, but your slightly tightened grip silenced him with a whimper. He let you give him a handjob for a few seconds, watching with an open mouth as you circled your finger over his tip.

It was only when you lowered his member so it rubbed against his fingers in you that he moaned. Your eyes snapped to his and he blushed but you quickly kissed him again, even more turned on now by his voice. Pulling away, both of your gazes dropped to where his fingers left you and his member greeted your opening. “I’m guessing you don’t have a condom?” You inquired shyly, the realization beginning to make you uncomfortable.

He shook his head regretfully, a wince crossing his face. “I don’t think I would’ve been able to get away with it.”

You bit your lip, and debated it in your head. You sighed, steeling your nerves. “It’s fine, just pull out. I’m trusting you.”

He nodded and positioned himself in front of you. You felt his breath hitch as the tip slid in. “T-tell me if it hurts, okay?” And he slowly sheathed himself in you. Your hands dug into his shoulder as you hissed. He paused, biting back a moan of his own as his head dropped over your head and into your hair. You took a deep breath and gave a curt nod, and he smiled briefly as he started to move. He groaned at the feeling and maintained a slow pace as you both adjusted. After you reopened your eyes to meet his gaze, something in him snapped and he suddenly gripped your thighs and picked up speed, albeit sloppily.

You squealed, your hands blindly grasping at his chest.

Mark chuckled and winced, picking up his head, a smirk starting to play on his bruised lips as he diverted his attention to you than his pleasure. “You’re such a vixen, getting me to do this.”

You managed to lift your head and scoff. “You’re really questioning my morality as you’re fucking me in a church? You have no room to talk.”

He chuckled into your neck, kissing the skin. “Yeah, well,” You tried to ignore his hip movements as to focus on his words. “I think I’m fucking you pretty good right now.”

You tried to ignore how him cursing sent another jolt through you, instead hitting his chest. “You’re—you’re so shallow.”

“You say that,” he snapped his hips and you gasped, your grip tightening on his shoulder. “But I’m only getting deeper.”

You tried not to laugh and forced a glare at him. He looked so good like this. For a moment you felt tender, and you brushed his sweaty bangs away from his face. He met your gaze briefly and his gaze was filled with something different too as he kissed your palm, trying to maintain the faster pace while maintaining eye-contact. The moment passed and the room filled with your pants and moans until a coil started to build in your stomach.

“M-mark,” He grunted in question, too transfixed on where your body’s met to spare you more than a glance. “Mark, I think I’m gonna c-cum.”

“God I see heaven every time you say my name.” He moaned in your ear and if he didn’t give you sass earlier, you wouldn’t have managed a smirk.

“Well that makes for an awkward encounter with God, now doesn’t it?” He laughed into your ear—a sweet and airy sound compared to the atmosphere—as he pulled your sweaty torso closer to him, and you laid your head on his shoulder and kissed his throat as both of your climaxes built. He brought one of his hands down and clumsily searched for your clit and rubbed it to the best of his ability to match the pace he’d set.

It wasn’t long before you felt yourself tense and sigh in pleasure into his neck, your grip tightening subconsciously as you dragged your nails down his shoulders. He whined at the sensation of your climax, but in his haze, he managed to pull out and release onto your stomach. It took a few seconds, watching each other in complete admiration as you came down from your highs before he jumpstarted, his boyish side coming back out.

“I-I’ll go get some tissues, I’m so sorry—“ he rushed in all his naked glory over to the desk where he picked up some tissues and came back over to you, wiping at his release on your abdomen.

You giggled and delicately placed your hand on his jaw, gently lifting his head so you could kiss him.

He pulled away and blinked, leaving you to grin lovestruck. “I never thought I’d lose my virginity in a church, much less the Bible study room.”

He flushed again and disposed of the tissues in the trash can before he came back to you to readjust your undergarments. “I know it’s not very romantic…”

You shook your head and ran your fingers through his hair. “It was nice. I’m glad I lost it with you.” He smiled his dorky smile, and if you didn’t know better, you wouldn’t have believed you just had sex with him. You shakily stood up and you both redressed. He helped you over to the door before you stopped him in the threshold. “And for the record, Mark, I like you too.” His eyes gleamed and he leaned down for another kiss, this time not driven by a lustful want.

On your way back to the front, you both tried to fix each other’s hair and clothing while giggling, but maintained a respectable distance when your parents came in view. He watched you leave longingly to your parents side but quickly hid the look.

“How was confession?” His father asked you two. Your eyes snapped to his and he offered a knowing smile.

“It went fine; we definitely had a lot to say.” You didn’t break eye-contact with Mark as you dismissively made up the excuse to your father, and it made your heart swell that the boy was trying his best not to smile.

Both of your parents continued their conversation about how proud they were of both of you, and you couldn’t help but sneakily slip your hand into his as you followed your parents out of the church.

And as Mark covertly pressed a kiss to your cheek with a barely-contained laugh, you couldn’t help the giggle that rose in your own chest as you tried to push him away. This was surely better than any dream or anything you could’ve asked for.

Mark Lee was no angel, but you surely tasted heaven on his lips.

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bittykimmy13 · 3 years

Text

Cat’s Out of the Bag (GT)

In which Ben and Lee discover one of Delilah's more unexpected abilities.

Characters belong to me and the lovely @marydublin5 / @little-miss-maggie (who created the header image) <3

Warning: Blood

“Hey, slow down—you don’t look so good.” Lee tried to get a closer look at the slash on Delilah’s shoulder, but she twisted away and gave him a coy smile.

“Aw, you’re worried about me? Blood warlocks tend to lash out when you rob them. It comes with the territory.” She stepped back on the dark sidewalk, admiring the gold amulet she had snatched. “I appreciate the help. Give me a call when you need me to return the favor.” Her playfully businesslike tone was strained.

Lee caught up and blocked her path. “As hot as this whole tough-girl thing is, at least stop by the hotel. Ben can heal that.”

“You and I both know that Ben doesn’t want anything to do with me. It’s no big deal, Lee. Why stress him out?” She peeked down at her wound, and her breath caught. Her sea-blue eyes flashed at Lee in warning. “Just go. I’ll take care of it.”

“Whatever you say.” Lee raised his hands in surrender and let her walk off.

He didn’t know what her plan was. She had to be miles away from wherever she was staying, and this quiet slice of suburbia didn’t have any taxis crawling around. If anything, someone was more likely to call the cops if they saw her staggering through the neighborhood at three in the morning, covered in blood.

He couldn’t help himself—he looked back. And she was nowhere to be seen.

“Delilah?”

Maybe she had done some kind of magic to spirit herself away. He didn’t know the extent of her powers, after all.

Two houses down in the direction she had fled, a flicker of movement caught his eye near the edge of a lawn. The streetlight barely illuminated it—a fluffy white cat.

Lee almost wrote it off and turned back around, but then he saw the cat was staggering with a peculiar, defeated gait. He stared for a moment, frozen as a ridiculous thought took hold of him. But considering Delilah was a witch, maybe it wasn’t that ridiculous.

“Hey,” he called out to the cat. “... Delilah?”

The cat paused and looked over its shoulder. Its eyes narrowed in a distinctly human-like way, and it took off at a foster trot away from him.

“Hang on!” He jogged to catch up.

As he closed in, the cat turned around and hissed. It took slow steps back, scowling. Under the streetlight, those sea-blue eyes were unmistakable.

Pushing a hand through his hair, Lee tried to get his bearings as he processed what he was seeing. “Okay, I… I’ve seen Ben make ghosts out of thin air. I can handle this, just give me a second. You’re… a cat?”

Delilah the cat rolled her eyes as if to say “Duh” and started to turn away. The way she limped brought his thoughts back into focus.

“Wait! You’re not gonna trot your way downtown. Come with me. This is weird as fuck, but… you’re hurt. Come on.” Despite her injury, she still managed to flick her tail imperiously as she walked away, ignoring him. “What if I told you I have a can of tuna in the car? Catnip?”

She paused to glare at him, then took off at a quicker pace. It didn’t last long. She staggered severely and came to a stop at the end of the sidewalk, hanging her head. Lee approached with slow steps and dropped to a crouch behind her.

He reached a hesitant hand to brush his fingertips on her back. “Del—”

She whirled and bit him. Shouting, he snatched his hand back. Delilah’s fur stood on end. Her wide stance warned that she was ready to strike again. As she growled, Lee spotted a patch of red staining the white fur on her front. Even in a different form, her wound had transferred.

The longer he observed her eyes, the less it seemed like anger and more like… “You don’t have to be scared of me.” He took a chance and smiled—the kind of smile that usually got him his way. “Have I ever mentioned I love cats? Come on, I just want to help.”

Delilah stayed coiled with tension for a few more moments. Gradually, she seemed too weak to stay on guard. She took a seat on the sidewalk, her tail wrapping around her legs. She dropped her gaze to the pavement and gave something of a sigh. She nodded with visible reluctance.

“Great,” he sighed.

He reached out with both hands, feeling awkward as he closed the distance. The number of times he had picked up Ben only prepared him marginally for this moment. As Lee’s hands approached, Delilah bumped her nose against the spot she had bitten him. She gave him a meaningful look.

Sorry.

“Don’t sweat it. Obviously, you like me too much to actually break skin.”

Carefully, he scooped her into his arms. She squirmed around as he stood, trying to find a comfortable position. When she settled, he became aware of the warm spot of blood in her fur. Her breathing was uneven.

“Let’s get you outta here.”

It was a few blocks down to his car, but it felt much longer than that. He adjusted Delilah to one arm as he searched for his keys.

“You know, I can deal with cat blood and fur on my suit, but if you get a single claw in my seats, I’m dropping you off at the shelter.”

He thought he might get another bite for that, but she meowed innocently instead. The sound made him pause. It was adorable, but he didn’t let her know that. He would get clawed up instead of the seats.

He ducked to sit behind the steering wheel, and Delilah wasted no time in hopping out of his arms. She claimed the passenger seat, laying down with a huff and curling into herself.

Lee dug out his phone and dialed the burner number he had left in the hotel room. Ben must have been waiting right beside it, because it only rang once.

“Are you okay?” Ben blurted in greeting. “It’s been—”

“I know, I know. Got held up, but I’m fine. Mostly. Cat bit me.”

“Cat?”

Lee glanced at the passenger seat, where Delilah waited as primly as her injury would allow. “On a completely unrelated note,” Lee went on. “Can you heal cats?”

Luckily, the hotel’s front desk clerk was too occupied with an unhappy guest to notice Lee sneaking a cat through the lobby. He kept Delilah tucked under his arm, hiding as much as he could while walking with casual confidence. It was a good thing her petiteness as a human translated into cat form.

When the elevator doors safely closed them away from prying eyes, he cradled her in both arms again and looked down at her.

“How are you holding up?” he asked, resisting the urge to stroke her.

She cocked her gaze up at him and twitched her shoulders up in what he assumed was a shrug. She dropped her head against his upper arm, feeling limper than she had earlier.

He took a chance and ran his hand down her back encouragingly. “Just hang on—we’re almost there.”

The elevator came to a stop, and she hurried for his and Ben’s room, locking the door behind him. As he strode inside, he spotted Ben hovering in the common area.

“Come on, I’ll put her here.” Lee gingerly set Delilah on the couch. She promptly laid down. When he turned around, however, Ben was still hovering in the same spot and looking rather pale. Lee frowned and beckoned impatiently. “What are you waiting for, Benny?”

“I’m just… are you sure that’s Delilah and not some random cat you pick up off the street?”

Lee scoffed in disbelief. “Yes, this is Delilah. Unless I’ve gone crazy—”

“Which is always a possibility.”

Delilah gave a snort that was likely meant to be a laugh. As Lee and Ben turned to her, she crossed her front paws and held her head higher, distinct intelligence shining in her eyes. All very Delilah-like.

“You see?” Lee insisted. “Have you ever seen a cat look so smug?”

“I make it a point not to look at cats for too long.” Nonetheless, Ben tentatively flew a bit lower before shooting Lee another uncertain look. “You said she bit you…”

“Even more proof that it’s her, if you ask me.”

Delilah mewled in agreement. Then her demure posture wavered. She laid down on her side and looked up at Ben pleadingly, exposing her wound in full view. Sighing, Ben finally caved and flew down. It was clear he was stuffing down a world of anxiety to even get close. But despite his misgivings about Delilah, Lee couldn’t see him turning away to let her suffer.

Lee knelt by the couch as Ben landed a short distance from Delilah. She laid perfectly still, the only movement coming from her eyes as she watched Ben approach. His steps slowed the closer he got, and she began to make a low noise. For a second, Lee thought she was growling again. But no. She was purring.

Horrible injury aside, Lee had to bite his lip to stifle an endeared smile as Ben finally closed the distance to reach out and heal her. She watched with a calm expression even as it took Ben a few times to stammer out the healing incantation correctly. Light bloomed from his palm and transferred onto the wound. As the magic did its work, Delilah closed her eyes serenely and sighed.

When the spell was complete, Delilah raised her head and lightly licked Ben’s hand before he could pull it away. He flinched and took an abrupt step back, but he stayed put long enough to mutter, “You’re welcome.”

After Ben flitted back into the air, Delilah tried to stand, but she promptly fell back onto her side. She huffed and wouldn’t quite look at Lee as he knelt over her with concern.

“Stay the night,” he told her. “And I don’t give me that look—I know what it feels like to have an intense healing like that. You need to rest.”

She didn’t try to get up again, but she did sulk at him with heavy eyelids.

“What happened out there?” Ben asked Lee as he stood. “Is this some kind of curse?”

“I don’t think so. She seems… used to this. Like this is normal for her.” He looked to Delilah for confirmation, and she nodded sleepily, putting her head down after. “She got hurt while stealing back an artifact that some wizard guys took from her. She got a nasty cut while she was at it, and suddenly she was a cat.”

“Some witches can shapeshift,” Ben admitted, rubbing his temples with his fingertips. “I’ll tell you what, I’m drawing the line if you ever try to bring me some owl-shifted witch for me to heal.”

Lee grinned. “Aw, as if you could ever say no to me, Benny.”

Ben gave him a flat look and flew off to the kitchen. Feeling they both deserved a strong drink, Lee planned to join him. But when he looked back at the couch, he gave a start. The cat was gone. Delilah, in human form, was curled up on her side, eyes shut. The amulet she’d taken was still clutched loosely in her hand.

Lee stepped into the bedroom to grab the comforter and pillow from his bed. He approached her with quiet steps, guilty at the thought of disturbing her when she looked so peaceful. He gently lifted her head and slid the pillow underneath. She drew in a deep breath and rubbed the side of her face into the plush surface.

With as much care as he could manage, he draped the comforter over her. She didn’t budge. He had never seen her look so vulnerable. Normally, she was all smirks and cool determination. But he supposed he must have earned a little bit more of her trust that night.

#gt #giant tiny #giant #tiny #g/t #gt writing #ben #lee #delilah #shot in the dark #mywriting

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dothwrites · 4 years

Text

15.13 coda--the price we pay

So it’s true, when all is said and done--grief is the price we pay for love.--E.A. Bucchianeri

---

Jack’s door closes with a small snick. Castiel watches it close. The thin barrier of wood separates him from his boy, but it doesn’t keep away the muffled sounds of sobs and sniffles.

The moment had lasted an eternity, Jack looking at Dean through tear-bright eyes, begging for forgiveness, Dean staring back down at Jack, his jaw set and eyes gimlet hard. Dean feels things more deeply than anyone else, Castiel had told Jack. He’d meant it. Joy, anger, guilt...Dean feels, so much all of the time, that it spills out onto anyone else who gets in his way.

What he hadn’t told Jack was that that was the reason that he loved Dean. Was because he felt. As an angel, a being who was never intended for emotion, the sight of a human soul, writhing with emotion so bright that it managed to shine through hell, was enough to captivate him. He’d been drawn towards Dean, helpless as a moth towards flame, and there he’d stayed, caught in Dean’s orbit. There he weathers the tempest of Dean’s anger as well as the brightness of his joy.

And he’s had time, firsthand, to experience to balm of Dean’s forgiveness.

Dean’s hand had descended towards Jack and Castiel had hated Jack’s flinch. Hated it for Jack, hated it for Dean. He knew that that flinch hurt Dean, reinforced what Dean had suspected all along--that he was nothing but a brute, nothing but a monster.

But Dean’s hand had landed on Jack’s shoulder, just a moment before Dean was on his knees, pulling Jack into a fierce embrace. “It’s ok kid,” he said, voice thick and gravel-rough. “You’re ok.”

Sam had knelt alongside them, his long arms wrapping up Jack and Dean alike, and Castiel...His work was done, in a sense. He’d facilitated Jack’s return to the Winchesters, seen his soul restored. Gotten one step closer to the ultimate goal. So Castiel had taken a few small steps out of the room, silently. No one had seen him go, no one had noticed his presence, until Dean and Sam walked out. Sam’s eyes were glassy, his face flushed. Dean’s mouth was flat, but there was something calm and peaceful in his eyes, something that had been missing for long weeks.

Anger takes a toll on the soul.

And then they’d walked away, leaving Jack’s door to close behind them. And Castiel watches--Watches his boy deal with the pain of his actions, watches the Winchesters walk away. After a moment, Castiel follows.

Dean glances up when he enters the room. Something hard glints at him. It reminds Castiel of the pain of the word idiot when it comes from Dean’s lips, the curling realization that no matter his contribution, he’ll never be valued.

Castiel is still a soldier, first and foremost. He understands the necessity of sacrifice, knows that in chess, sometimes you have to lose pieces in order to win.

He just wishes that Dean would care a little more when he’s finally taken off the board.

---

Cas looks at him with wide eyes and Dean knows that they’re going to have to talk. Probably sooner than later, judging by the stubborn little purse to his mouth. Dean takes another sip from his beer (those bastards drank them down to almost nothing, greedy little sons of bitches) and luxuriates in the swallow. He’ll put off this conversation as long as he can.

He still doesn’t know, how to put all the concern that he feels, the worry that continuously scrabbles at the inside of his skull, into words that don’t spit and fizzle like poison. He’d seen the minute little flinch in Cas’ face when he said idiot, just like he’d seen the Jack’s flinch when he reached out towards him. He’s doing better, he’s trying, but what the hell does it say about him that the people that he loves best in the world literally draw back from him?

“I’m going to bed,” Sam says, his voice still scratchy and rough. Dean knows that the deal with Jack hit him hard, but there’s something else there too. Sam’s continuous glances at his phone tell a fairly convincing story. No doubt there’s a series of texts from Eileen waiting for him.

Which would be fine, Dean’s all aboard the good ship Saileen, except that Sam’s departure leaves him alone with Cas. And Cas isn’t leaving or starting the conversation, which means that he’s going to leave Dean to deal with this whole mess.

The silence between them takes on a distinctly stony feel the longer they sit in it. It’s so damned uncomfortable sitting in it, yet breaking it would somehow be worse. Dean will give it to Cas--he’s a passive-aggressive little shit when he wants to be.

After the quiet becomes so uncomfortable that Dean’s teeth are itching, he finally decides to rip the band-aid off in one, vicious tug.

“It was a damn stupid thing, what you did.”

He didn’t mean it to sound like that, he really didn’t. But his intentions are worthless--the words fall harsh and flat between them, like little loaded weapons. Whatever softness might have been lurking in Cas is gone.

“It was the only way to get what we needed.” Cas’ voice is tight with repressed emotion, but the words are enough to spark a wildfire in Dean.

“It was the only--what the fuck man?” he spits. He stands up, his chair skittering backwards across the floor. Its feet scrape against the wood, loud enough to send the hairs rising on Dean’s arms, but he ignores that in favor of focusing on Cas.

“The only way was to go and get yourself killed? Again?”

Try as he might, he can’t erase the image--Cas, slumped motionless in the chair, face gone that particular shade of pale and waxy that Dean knows and wishes that he didn’t. How many times has he been forced to watch Cas die, right in front of him? How many times has he said goodbye? And they’ve been lucky--for every goodbye, there’s always been a Hello Dean waiting, but Winchesters aren’t known for their luck. How long before it runs out? How long before Cas does something so monumentally reckless that there’s no coming back from it?

How long before Dean has to say goodbye permanently?

“It wasn’t like that--”

“It was exactly like that!” Dean’s anxiety and worry spills out of him in a vicious tirade. “Sam and I come back, find you--”

“So you’re the only one who can take pointless risks?” Castiel is standing now, and there’s a dangerous, sharp edge in his voice that Dean should probably heed, but he’s too far gone for that.

“That’s different--” Though it really isn’t, the difference is that Dean is just...Dean, just some schmuck who doesn’t have a trust fund, who doesn’t know any life other than that which cakes blood and dirt underneath his nails. He doesn’t matter, not in the long run. But Castiel...Castiel is made of stardust and the cosmos. It would be a sin, if Dean were left on the world while Castiel ceased to exist.

For a moment Cas is speechless with rage. Then he’s striding over to Dean, pushing an angry finger into his chest, so hard that Dean’s sure there will be small, circular bruises blooming over his skin within the next day or so.

“How dare you? How dare you assume that everyone...that I would be fine without you? How dare you think so little of yourself?”

Dean laughs, a wretched ugly sound. “Yeah? Well, right back at you pal.”

It hits him then, weights falling from the sky: how tenuous their grip on this life is. How any wrong move could be their last. How any of them could be snuffed out in the merest flicker of an instant and nothing of them would be left behind, save grief.

Dean isn’t aware of the series of events that end with him crashing into Cas. He knows that his knees buckle, that he reaches out for Cas, that Cas is there to catch him, steady as ever. He folds himself into Cas, burrowing his nose between the collar of Cas’ shirt and his neck, brushing against warm skin.

“I thought I lost you,” Dean finally says, the words dredged out of him like vomit, coming from somewhere dark and desperate that he keeps inside himself. Cas, his head lolling backward, hands limp on his stomach. Cas, light pouring out of his eyes and mouth, angel blade pierced through his chest...”I thought that I’d lost you again.”

He doesn’t cry, but it’s a near thing as his shoulders shake with the release of pent-up emotion. He tries to crawl away to lick his wounds and hide his shame, but Cas’ arms tighten like a vice around his shoulders, keeping him present.

“I can’t...don’t make me lose you again.” It’s half order, half-plea, but wholly sincere, gasped into Cas’ neck. “You think that you’re fucking expendable, that the ends justify the means, or whatever else your stupid chess metaphors say. But I need you in this with me Cas. I need you with me.”

“And how dare you assume that I don’t feel the same,” Cas answers back. “How dare you think that I could go through this earth without you with me.”

Dean draws back, just enough that he can take Cas’ face in his hands. Cas’ skin is warm against his palms. He can feel the flutter of Cas’ pulse underneath his hands, wild and thready and so very alive. “You ain’t fucking leaving me,” Dean says, before he kisses Cas.

Just before his lips meet Cas’, he thinks that he sees something flicker across Cas’ face. A hint of regret maybe, a deeper secret coiling underneath the surface of those blue eyes.

Dean pushes it aside before he kisses Cas, hard enough to bruise. Permanent.

---

“I do not fear death. I had been dead for billions and billions of years before I was born, and had not suffered the slightest inconvenience from it.”―Mark Twain

#spn spoilers #supernatural #destiel #destiel fic #destiel fanfic #coda fic #15.13 coda #15x13 coda #spn15 #spn season 15 #15.13 #dean winchester #castiel #jack kline #fare thee well spn #welcome to the end #dothwrites

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oushianimedirector · 3 years

Text

Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba the Movie Anime Director Explains the Tricks Used by Creator Team to Make Rengoku Look Outstanding

Hello. I am Oushi, anime director.

It’s been quite a while since my last post.

Have you watched Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba the Movie?

I watched it on the second day after release and have read lots of reviews from various perspectives.

All of them were so interesting, they inspired me to write one of my own.

I believe I can share a review from a director’s point of view who takes part in the actual creation of anime.

This article is meant for those of you who have already watched Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba the Movie, or those of you who are OK with spoilers.

Maybe after reading this you can go and watch the movie again with a whole new perspective.

The perspective is…

You can experience the viewpoint of what it would be like to be a member of the creator team.

Many of you who watched the movie must have thought,

"Rengoku is so outstanding!"

He is outstanding indeed.

What makes Rengoku seem so outstanding?

How many of you had such a deep viewpoint to wonder what tricks the creators used to make Rengoku look that way?

Story, lines and interactions between characters are of course important, but today I would like to talk about the secret of the mightiness of Rengoku from a "screen structure" point of view.

Many of you must have thought "That is so unnecessary. I just want to enjoy the movie like a normal person" or "Just let me focus on the story and the interaction between characters".

.....I totally understand.

That was exactly what I did when I saw the movie for the first time, and it is always good to watch a movie for the first time with an open mind.

So, the information I am going to share with you now is recommended for those who are willing to watch the movie more than once, or those who want to try watching it from a new perspective, or those who want to enjoy this legendary movie in further depth by experiencing the creator's point of view.

Table of contents

What is an outstanding scene?

How to create sensational effects "kelen-mi"

Example cut from the actual movie

What happens without sensational effects “kelen-mi”? (Bad examples)

What is an outstanding scene?

So, let's get started.

When discussing how to make scenes and characters outstanding, creators often use the word "sensational effect" ("kelen-mi" in Japanese). "It's lacking kelen-mi" "The character's acting needs more kelen-mi" etc.

https://newsmomonga.com/5829.html

“Kelen-mi” Explained! What is “Kelen-mi” that is Sometimes Used in Anime or Movies? Meaning of “Kelen-mi”

Simply put, it means "good lies/good fraud" to make a scene more attractive.

How to create sensational effects "kelen-mi"

What makes up kelen-mi? Here is the breakdown.

Contrast within screen

Balance between background, middle-distance and foreground

Sharpness (ease in/ ease out) of animation

Naturally asymmetric structure (some exceptions)

Above are the four major factors.

3.Sharpness (ease in/ ease out) of animation, I will have to skip because it is hard to explain here.

We will look at the reason why Rengoku is so outstanding through points 1, 2 and 4.

I will show you an example.

Please take a look at this trailer cut.

Try to pause the video at around 49-50 seconds. (The part where Rengoku is preparing for Flame Breathing First Form like in the top image)

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Amazing scene indeed...!

Looking at the layout, have you noticed the elements 1, 2 and 4 which we discussed above?

Example cut from the actual movie

Let's take a look one by one.

1. Contrast within screen

The creator team's aim, I believe, was to bring the audience’s focus on Rengoku lit up by the firelight.

2. Balance between background, middle-distance and foreground

Background: Demon

Middle-distance: Rengoku

Foreground: Nichirin Sword point and sparks

Distinctly depicting these three subjects creates a sharpness in the scene.

4. Naturally asymmetric structure

Dividing the screen in half, the asymmetricity is apparent.

Furthermore, Rengoku’s posing’s feet position creates the perfect angle to show the distinct depth difference, and the vectors of the haori coat, feet and katana creates the impact.

Some of you may still find it hard to believe.

What happens without sensational effects “kelen-mi”? (Bad examples)

Now, I will show you the exact same situation and posing without the "kelen-mi".

First, this is the one with “kelen-mi”.

And this is the version without "kelen-mi".

What do you think? Ignoring my not-so-good drawing ability (smiley sob)...Doesn't it look boring compared to the one with “kelen-mi”? Doesn’t Rengoku and Demon look somewhat powerless?

Here are the details.

Contrast: The train lighting is just normal lighting and lacks impact

Background, middle-distance and foreground: Distance between subjects is indistinct

Asymmetricity: Divided in the middle, the structure is pretty much symmetric

What do you think? The creator team puts in all of these fine details so that we can feel the mightiness and strength of Rengoku.

To avoid any misunderstanding, please let me clarify that I have nothing to do with the creation of this movie.

It is just that as a creator working in the same industry who watched this movie, I felt immense respect towards all of the work and motives put in to the work by the creator team, so I wanted to express how amazing the team by writing this article.

I apologize if there are any lack of explanation or unclarity. Please kindly point them out if any.

If this article interested you, please give me a like. I plan to write an article on "How Small Factors Affect Screen Impact" using the same cut and close-up shot of Rengoku.

This is the close-up shot of Rengoku. (50 seconds, where the video will automatically start from)

youtube

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #aniime #rengoku kyoujurou #kamado tanjirō #anime director #anime blog

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catchlalune · 4 years

Text

Original artwork here

a/n: Hello starbursts! Happy Juneteenth and I hope everyone is staying safe and still quarantining! This fic is very different from my usual works so I need to preface this in my authors note that all of the characters in the story are pretty awful. If you find yourself in any of these situations PLEASE seek help. I wrote this to highlight these issues and you should think of it much like a modern day Romeo and Juliette story (and what I mean by that is that everyone in that story was incredibly dense and really could’ve solved a lot of their issues by talking and working through things together.) Thank you to @skzctnightnight and @pockpop for actually helping me maintain my motivation for finishing writing in an actual day. (also tagging @jejublr )

Word Count: 3.6k

Pairings: Lucas x Reader

Genre: Angst, CEO! Au, Arranged Marriage

Warnings: unhealthy relationships, smut, abusive relationship (this is not between the reader and Lucas), this again is to highlight how awful people can be this is an extremely toxic scenario so please don’t read if you will be triggered. Also not proofread yet but I plan on fixing it later

This is not in any way, shape, or form meant to say that I believe Lucas is like this in the slightest. I am using his likeness to portray a completely fictional character and that is all.

The entirety of the two years she has spent with Lucas culminates to the two of them in this moment. The sinful sounds the two of them make as skin slaps on skin. The feel of him inside her. Everything is hot and wet and passionate. As passionate as the kisses they’ve always shared. As hot as the sun on their skin as they sit and laugh in the sun, Lucas’ parents included. As wet as the rain as it pours outside, slapping on the pavement in hard droplets.

They say that if it rains on your wedding day it means the relationship is meant to last forever. But what does it mean when it happens on a day of goodbyes? Are you fated to never say hello again?

Whatever it means does not matter much to the two of them. Lucas is too busy coaxing his cock in and out of her to think of much other than their combined pleasure. They draw this out for as long as they possibly can. They know what will happen when they finish. But still Lucas must bring her to the apex of her pleasure, circling her throbbing bud as he stoaks the fire inside her belly. Her toes tingle, eyes shut tight and breathing ragged. Her fingers pinch and rub at her nipples until she's shaking.

She comes undone with a sweet groan, gripping him until he releases into the condom.

They lay there in the darkness of the night, the only illumination being the red of the alarm clock on Lucas’ bedside table. Glaringly it tells them the time but they ignore it as it looks in on them. It judges silently as the time reaches hours close enough for the sun to claw its way above civilization. They grasp for each other in the post-coituous haze. It does not matter, no matter how tightly they cling.

“I want to stay like this forever.” His whispers sound like music to her ears, the song of a siren.

She does not answer him, anything she wants to say is caught in her throat. The memories that flood her mind hurt her before his words even can. Distinctly she remembers his mother telling her about the arranged marriage proposal from before he was even a child. Lucas doesn’t even know, she hadn’t even known up until two weeks ago. Their two year relationship had suddenly been reduced to nothing by those words. And his mother had been so casual about it, telling her as they searched for Lucas’ birthday present as if it was nothing more than an afterthought. ‘And by the way, you will never be able to have my son. Not completely.’

She doesn’t realize the sobs that wrack her until Lucas pulls her close. He coos at her about how she always gets so emotional after sex. He jokes, tries to lighten the mood but nothing will quiet her mind. Not really. She knows that their graduation tomorrow means the end of this, of them. She knows she should at least tell him why, but she can’t bring herself to say the words.

Instead she lets him hum the both of them to sleep, Lucas feeling bad about not being able to cure her of whatever ails her. She speaks to him after a brief period of rest, words hardly above the sound of the rustling of sheets.

“Maybe we could’ve been, in another world.”

By the time he wakes the sun is just rising over the horizon, alarm clock blaring, and the bed cold. He doesn’t have to wait long to find out she is no longer with him. Some part of him feels the dread, knows something must’ve been wrong but he tries to brush it off. He does a good job of it too until he realizes he can’t reach her. Her number automatically disconnects, her things are no longer at her dorm room, and he doesn’t even catch a glimpse of her at graduation. When it is time for her to walk the stage there is a pregnant pause and the name of the graduate. He can’t imagine what must have happened to make her miss her own college graduation but he can’t even find the time to worry. Not when his parents are there and tell him the truth.

---

“If I have to listen to another man tell me about how to run my own business I just might shoot myself in the foot.”

Already the span of time has reached six long years. Leaving him was a decision she did not pride herself on. Some nights ended with dreams, ghosts of memories too long passed. Echoes of a time she felt safe, felt confident. Now she stands in the lobby of a convention center trying to figure out which panel would aggravate her the least. Two more long days she would have to deal with the misogyny, usually her patience wouldn’t be so thin but she hasn’t been able to sleep very well recently. She wakes up with the feel and taste of him on her. She feels dirty.

“I agree, we can do it together.” The woman-- who she hadn’t noticed-- smiles at her so brightly it makes her a bit uncomfortable. She was very pretty, the image of most men’s dreams probably. Perfectly manicured nails, long pin-straight hair, skin a milky complexion, lips a shade of pink that was not too bold and not too flirty. The woman also wears a dress she vaguely remembers seeing in a high fashion magazine not too long ago whilst waiting at the doctor's office-- in another word: expensive. She feels a bit embarrassed to have said that so loud where others could obviously hear her. It was obvious she was being watched, she was a woman in a man's world she was always being watched.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“Don’t worry about it. Your secret is safe with me!” The woman takes a moment to wink at her, she shifts on her feet still feeling a bit awkward. “My name’s Jaeun, you’re the CEO of Xuxi’s Publishing Group, correct? I’ve been trying to find you all day.”

Jaeun launches into a story about how she’d stumbled upon her company and relaxes her enough for the two of them to have a conversation about things other than business. It had been such a long time since she had a friend and talking to Jaeun was extremely easy. Maybe it was the way she seemed so bright and bubbly, or even the way she navigated conversations with a natural grace. Whatever it was, Jaeun quickly became a staple in her life for the next two days.

And then it all comes crashing down on her, just like the rain on that night it rains the last day of the convention. It comes down so hard it resonates within the convention center. But that’s not what she’s focused on. Jaeun had offered for her to meet her husband and his parents excitedly yesterday after talking to her about the lack of business prospects. It was supposed to be relaxed and informal but she was on absolute high alert.

The years were kind to him in a way that she considered unfair. He was even more beautiful than the night she left him.

“There you are! This is my husband Lucas. I showed him your business proposal and he wants to have a meeting for a merger.”

It’s no more than a few days after the convention that he shows up on her doorstep in business casual attire that puts hers to shame. She’s not even sure if it was actually smart for them to be left alone together but she swallows the lump in her throat and lets in him. She offers him a plate of food that she made for their lunch but he declines. He does the same to her offer for water and coffee as well. He’s been there all of five minutes and already her palms are sweating. She almost feels silly as he tells her that she can eat, always feeling like the one taking instead of giving.

"Do you really like her as a friend?" A strange conversation for him to start, but he needed to vet her nonetheless.

"Yes." There is no doubt in her words, they are hard and come out leaving no room for doubt.

"Do you love and cherish her?"

"Of course I do, it's been so long since finding a friend like her." She fiddles with her fork wondering why this was being asked to her and not the other way around.

"You know I think she loves you too. I don't know about cherish, that's a good change word. It's just that her mom is so skeptical of everyone, it's better that she doesn't get too close."

"I know, but it doesn't change my answer. "

There's a brief pause between them before he speaks again, a small smile on his face.

"I almost wish I was in an arranged marriage with you. I think it would be easy to fall in love. Should I just end it with her? You know I could." He says it with such conviction it makes her heart flutter.

"Don't say things like that. Jaeun really likes you, she really wants to make it work." It almost sickened her how easy it was for him to just say those words to her. Maybe it was easy for him, but what about her friend? She was groomed her whole life for him. The way he would easily throw her away for another makes her resolve to forget the butterflies in her stomach that much stronger.

"Let's get down to business now shall we? You came here to talk about a merger." She looks at him with her eyes and jaw set and he knows. He knows he is going to fall into her head first and drown. He knows that she is so loyal to her morals and her friendship that she would willingly let any sparks for him fizzle out and die. He knows it, and yet the beating of his heart only gets faster.

"Let's."

She is exactly how he remembers her. And the way he remembers her is very intimate. If he closes his eyes he can faintly feel the way her body would meld perfectly against him. Lips laying kisses across the expanse of his visage. The smell of her, fresh and sweet; the smell of citrus and a hint of honey with jasmine blooms. He can still feel the way their hearts beat at each others ribcage, trying to find a way out and meld together. But they never did, and they never will.

It has already been two weeks since their meeting and business between them is going off without a hitch. But of course that's all that is going on between them, business. She is just as intelligent and bright as she always has been and it seems if only she had been dealt a luckier hand in life her business would've surpassed his years ago. He shouldn't be but she makes it so easy to remember their summer tryst. She makes it so easy to remember how he cares for her.

Even at the company dinner she makes it easy, she glides through the room as if on air. Her pantsuit hugs her body in all the right places. He takes note of how it makes her stand out, of the power she exudes just by making a not so orthodox outfit choice. Of course some of the men would think she was a hardass because of it, but when she saunters away with a pretty brunette and stay in the bathroom longer than socially acceptable they begin to think other things. Of course even if these things are true it's none of their business and he tells them just that. Reminding them of the company rules against harassment and intimidation.

This doesn't stop him from waiting for her though. After another ten minutes the brunette slipping out from the bathroom a satiated look on her face Lucas is waiting. He keeps his eyes trained on the bathroom door but when he feels it's been too long he doesn't wait anymore. It is a company wide policy that most bathrooms be gender neutral and luckily this was one such one. He makes his way quietly into the single toilet, he tells himself it's just to make sure that she's okay. But when he sees the way she looks he can't help but ask her.

"Did you have fun?" It's an innocent enough question but the implications of it are anything but innocent.

"Are you mad?" She doesn't even startle at his presence, as if she knew he would be looking for her. It takes him a second to really be able to answer her. He thinks about it long and hard.

"I can't be mad, because I was the one that let you slip away from me." He regards her with a soft wisftfulness that makes both their hearts ache. It hurts to look at her lipstick smudged and hair disheveled when he wasn't the one who's done it. He wonders if the woman she's just hooked up with knows.

"If I had held you longer, maybe you wouldn't have slipped out of the bed that night. We could've woken up to each other we could've-"

"You know that's not true. Don't even pretend for a second your parents would've given up your arranged marriage."

"We don't know that, we could've been more persistent! We could've begged." His eyes are alight, wild with all of the things he might have done to stay with her had he known it would hurt him this much.

"No, it wouldn't have changed anything. Just like every other rich person the only thing you and your whole family value is money and power. It doesn't matter how much they liked me." The words come out of her mouth as sharp as razor blades and they cut. They cut so deep and so hot it almost makes him dizzy. He knows she doesn't mean it, she's just upset because he'd almost caused her friendship to fall through. He deserves it but just because it was true about his parents doesn't mean it was for him.

"You don't understand how much I love you." He steps forward, tears threatening to pour down his beautiful face. She will regret her next words for the rest of her life. But she must say them even if they aren't true, even if they hinder her from happiness.

"I understand, but it's that my understanding does not matter. Jaeun loves you." Her words echo through different times and spaces it seems. They beat at the two of them brutally. They make it hard to breathe.

"Do you love me?" He steps closer, words falling from his lips like water from a faucet. They begin to flood the room with their intensity, the water is at their shins. She steps back.

"Jaeun loves you." A shake of her head and the room is flooded higher, the water at their hips now. He takes another step forward.

"Do you love me?" The words are at their chests now and she shakes her head again, tears mirroring the ones steaming down his face.

"Jaeun loves you." He stops when she is almost against the wall but doesn't proceed forward.

"Do you love Jaeun?"

"I do, with all that is in me. She's been my only friend through all of this. I can't betray her." The words are at their throats now, they choke her so that her speech is airy and labored. They press at her chest. He knew that he would drown in her, he just didn't realize he would never be saved.

"But loving me, you already have." He steps away and she can already breathe better when her senses aren't so full of him.

"I never said-"

"You didn't have to." The smile he gives her is preposterously solemn for such a wide showcase of his teeth.

"Jaeun loves you." She whispers back to him, head bowed and eyes looking at the shiny leather of his shoes.

"I know, but I love you. " He turns away from her and begins his exit and subsequently his descent into madness. Every step he takes from her causes her to fall just a bit closer to the floor, by the time he is gone she is already on her knees gasping for air.

Jaeun waits for him outside the room with an eerily stoic face. He knows she has heard everything but he doesn't care, he hopes she wants a divorce but to his surprise she offers him her usual smile. Normally he'd think it was full of charm but her words...her very words tell him she was simply a snake all along.

"Let's go home, I'll help you forget about her."

They were so caught up in the turmoil of their relationship they hadn't even seen the signs. The seeds that Jaeun had sowed. And now, they played right into her hand. But for her sake, he'd do everything to make sure she wouldn't find out.

"I don't need or want whatever it is you're offering me. What I want is for you to get the fuck away from me." His words come out scathing, he puts every bit of malice he can into each and every letter. But it just makes Jaeun laugh, she then fixes him with a look so sinister it almost makes him shiver.

"Don't be silly. The second the two of you got together there was already a due date on your relationship. You were never meant to be forever, there was a deadline and it ended exactly when I decided it to. Really it's your fault for ever getting involved with her in the first place." She ends it with a sneer marring her pretty features and so loud he hushes her fearing that his lover might hear.

"Is it really my fault?" The thought seems ludicrous to him but all Jaeun needs is that inch of doubt in his voice to take it a full mile.

"Of course it is baby, you're just as awful as I am. But it's okay, I forgive you." He lets her pull him away after that, head so clouded with her words he can barely manage to walk correctly. It was true, he knew he was getting an arranged marriage and his parents knew but still he…

He would make sure that she'd be happy anyway he could even if it meant being in a relationship with Jaeun.

The years spread between them like a desert, sands of time speeding up and slowing down in frequent intervals that they can't change though sometimes they wish they could. Lucas' marriage to Jaeun is nothing more than a facade and his deserves an Oscar for his performance every time she comes around. Sometimes he wonders why Jaeun keeps her if she doesn't really see her as a friend but then remembers that Jaeun is cruel and enjoys watching the two of them pine. Whenever he kisses Jaeun he feels her lips ghosting across his own. Whenever he touches Jaeun he feels her skin soft and supple. Whenever he fucks Jaeun he really wishes he could make love to her. And whenever he sees their daughter though he loves her to death, he wishes her mother was another woman. He especially wishes it when she comes around to babysit.

Jaeun takes her cruelty to a whole new degree when she begins to ask her "friend" to babysit for her. 'She's just so tired and Lucas is always so busy.' And it isn't entirely a lie, but Lucas had long since been working from home just to be able to catch a glimpse of her in passing. He didn't think his heart could ache more but it does the moment he hears it. He watches from around the corner to the kitchen, peering in and spying like a shadow.

"Mommy can we have chicken for lunch?" His daughter had just begun to learn how to enunciate her words better. Four years old and Jaeun had hardly stepped in to care for the child, she wasn't a mother any more than she was a wife this much was evident from their daughters words.

"I'm not your mommy darling, you can call me auntie though." She bends down to pat Jisoo on the head. Eyes tender with a longing she could not put into words.

"But you act like a mommy, can't you be my mommy? Can we please have chicken?" The four year old pouts up at her, Lucas nearly swoons. Everyone knows that it's true, even the maid and butler agreed she was a much better fit for Jaeun at motherhood. But secrets should never be uttered aloud.

"We can have chicken Jisoo, but you can't keep calling me that. At least not in front of everyone." Jisoo lights up at the prospect of some kind of compromise.

"Does that mean I can still call you mommy?" She hushes the child and leans in close to her. Lucas has to strain to hear the words that come from her.

"Yes, but only when we're alone and you have to be very quiet. It'll be our little secret, promise?" She holds out her pinky for Jisoo to wrap her smaller one around.

Lucas returns to his office with a smile on his face, something he'd not worn in such a long time the staff gave him strange looks, whispers of rumors beginning. It made no difference to him, he'd just been so happy to keep their secret safe. A secret made for two.

#wayv scenarios #wayv smut #nct scenarios #nct smut #lucas scenarios #lucas smut #xuxi scenarios #xuxi smut #kpop scenarios #kpop smut #kpop angst #wayv angst #nct angst #nct wayv #tw: unhealthy relationship #tw: manipulation #tw: abusive relationship

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bakezart · 3 years

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When given the brief to make a zine, I wanted to relate it back to the topic of universally human. Mental illness relates strongly to that topic, and it personally has had a substantial effect on not only me, but also my family. Hence my titled project, Family Inheritance.

Order is important to me, even if the tone remains the same no matter what. I ordered them from my mother's side to my father, which interests me now because I sit closer to my father's side in mental disorder than I do my mother. This project held a special interest to me because mental illness in general is inescapable but especially in regards to my family, where I have grown up and seen the effects of poor mental health on the sufferer and those around them as well.

I enjoyed working with the reisograph, I found that it's ability to layer colour from hand drawn images and block images alike mental that I had a lot of freedom, and it's ability to make prints by the many cheaply was a great way to make a zine.

This is the back page of my zine, of which I am yet to finish. I specifically like this page because it represents the possibility for growth, contrasting from the desolate dead tree illustrated on the front cover. I feel the font used for my title is unprofessional, my handwriting is not my strong suit, and so next time I would endeavour to include either a more stylised typeface to lean into my short comings or perhaps use a computer to print out the title, leading to a cleaner look. I am currently unsure what approach I would prefer, a cleaner look would be more professional and lead to a more finished look. However following the sketchy and stylised look of my zine if a stronger front was to be developed, it could further illustrate the message behind my zine.

This is the final outcome to the pages of my zine. I overall feel that it's effective in portraying mental illnesses, the bold colours are stark, and mean the message is more obvious, however I feel that messing around with the colours might have lead to a more interesting look and I could have attached different colours to my impressions and experiences with mental illness, adding a depth to my zine. The stylised figures play on being both humanoid and distinctly surreal, a link to mental illness both being a human experience but also stigmatised and misunderstood. Should I have had more time I would have worked to personalise these figures more and make them more consistent in proportion. I also worked directly from my draft to create my layers, which lead to the layers all being offset. On the one hand, it has quite an interesting effect the disjointing of the colours mirroring the disjointed experience that people hold. On the other hand this is a mistake, and I would at least like to see a print in which the colours align with each other.

I was inspired by Shawn Coss' work, he represents many illnesses in his work but his works on mental illnesses touched me. I drew from his grotesque take on the human form and stark use of colour. I deviated in that I personalised it more to me and my family, trying to draw on more experiences I had. However Shawn Coss did extensive research on mental illness and I would have liked to do that as well. It is my hope that if I explored the subject more, I could read more stories and talk to people more on how mental illness has affected their lives, as I would not want to cause any disrespect through a subject that devastates lives

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letsbenditlikebennett · 3 years

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Sanctuary || Athena & Ariana

TIMING: Last night PARTIES: @athenaquinn & @letsbenditlikebennett SUMMARY: After the events of taking care of Lydia, Ariana visits Athena at the hospital. CONTENT: Grief and some mentions of abuse

After months of trying to figure out the situation with Lydia, Ariana always thought she’d feel relief once everything was finally over. In a way, maybe she did, but it was overshadowed by an overwhelming hollow feeling that had taken over. The whole way to the hospital, all she could see was Todd collapsing and dying over and over. It played in her head on loop and left her fists clenched firmly around the steering wheel. Dread filled her as she knew she’d have to break the news to Winston. Watch them crumble before her the way she felt her insides had when it became evident Todd wasn’t making it out of Lydia’s alive. She choked on a sob as she stopped at the red light leading into the hospital. A few tears slid down her cheek as she pulled into a parking spot. She’d tell Winston soon, but she knew if she was ever going to be able to speak the words, she’d need to see Athena first. See that she was okay. Take her hand and find some sense of strength in herself again that felt all too lost. The fluorescent lights of the hallway stung her eyes and the sea of noise around her barely registered in her mind. Her mind was in a haze until she found herself in Athena’s room. Despite the cast on her arm and the worry she felt, something in her felt a little stronger seeing her there. She rushed over and took Athena’s hand in her own as she looked her over for any further injury. “You’re okay,” she breathed out, finally believing it as she saw for herself. “I-- What happened back there?”

She couldn’t focus - didn’t want to focus on anything. Athena could feel a pain in her arm that she wasn’t supposed to feel. This wasn’t something she could just work through, like her parents had said. Being in the hospital felt weird. Even though she could remember coming to visit her father countless times, especially as a child but even when she was older. The smell of the cleaning agents they used to sterilize everything stung her nose, made her eyes tear up if she concentrated on it too much. Which was a better alternative to thinking about what had happened. She could feel her brother’s hands around her arm, the snap of her bone. It had been worth it, though she couldn’t get Ri’s face out of her mind, after it all. He didn’t hurt people, he actively avoided it and yet he’d been made to do it. Made in a way he couldn’t control. She had to admit that though the fact that he had refused some of the trainings when they were children made her angry, at least he’d been able to walk away. Lydia had promise-bound him into doing what he hated most. She had to go and check on him, but she couldn’t; not yet. Not until the doctors - her father’s former colleagues, albeit in a different area of the hospital - gave her the all clear. She’d been staring at a smudge on the wall for too long, eyes concentrating so hard that she almost felt dizzy. She heard someone enter the room, and though she’d appreciated the offers of jello, the artificial sweetness was too much and it was far too smooth of a food. A couple unopened packs lay to the side - blue, red, orange. Ariana’s voice jolted her out of her thoughts. “Relatively, yes.” She squeezed Ariana’s hand. “Well, she’s dead.” That much she could say. “A - a lot happened. But she’s dead and that’s what matters most. Plus, I got a cool cast out of it. Actually I think I fractured the same wrist on this arm playing soccer as a kid, so, you know, it’s cyclical or something like that.” Athena paused for a moment. “I’m - it’s nice to see you. It’d be nicer not in a hospital, but we can’t have everything. Do you happen to like Jello at all?”

There was no hiding the exhaustion they both carried with them from today. If one thing was clear, it was Lydia didn’t make this easy for them, but she was gone now. She couldn’t hurt them or anyone else ever again. She wanted to find comfort in that thought, but all she could see was Todd not making it over the threshold. How pained he had looked before he fell to the ground. The impossible quiet that filled the air despite all the people around her as his heartbeat faded away forever. No. Ariana held on to Athena’s good hand tighter and tried to bring herself back to the moment they were in. Though hurt, knowing they’d both made it out of this alive held some sense of relief no matter how much grief tried to dilute it. Her thumb traced patterns on the back of her palm as she tried to keep her breathing steady. The moment wasn’t quite as victorious as she had hoped. It wasn’t one she had planned to spend in a hospital room. Not that it mattered all that much. The only thing that really mattered was being with Athena. Knowing they were both safe. “Relatively, yes,” she said softly. “She’s dead.” She repeated more for her own sake. Lydia was dead. That had been the plan all along, but they were both worn down. It was evident the fight hadn’t been an easy one for Athena and she wanted to scoop her into her arms. Take all of it away. “She can’t hurt us or anyone else ever again,” she assured. Before she even spoke the words, Ariana knew a lot had to have happened. “Would you like to talk about it? We don’t have to if you’d rather not. I know today has been… not great.” She looked over the cast, careful to not touch it despite wanting to move closer to Athena. She missed their room already and wanted to just draw the shades and hold Athena close. Forget about how terribly this day had gone. “Was your cast the same color then?” She tried to imagine a small Athena sporting a cast. It was a cute mental image and something to distract from the heaviness that weighed on both of them. Her nose scrunched up a bit at the mention of Jello. “Not really, I can run out and get us something more substantial if you’d like. How long do you need to stay here?” Ariana wasn’t sure she was prepared to go home without her.

The feeling of Ariana’s hand in her own let her breath return to something far more steady, then. Athena hated being vulnerable more than she hated most things, but if there weren’t any doctors around - if it was just her and Ariana alone in the room, it was okay. Had to be, she told herself. Was, she corrected. The other girl - who was her friend, her most trusted confidant, and so much more - wouldn’t judge her for something as basic as a broken arm. They were safe now and Lydia was never going to hurt anybody ever again. Athena could still see the way that her knife had cut into Lydia’s body, how she’d been more than just a bit satisfied at watching life leave her body. She regretted none of that, only how distraught her brother had been. She hated how guilty he must have felt - how guilty she knew he would have felt. Whenever she was able, she fully intended to go and check on him, to do whatever she could to assure him he wasn’t guilty - that a fae, a vile and terrible fae - had manipulated him in the worst of ways. “I - I don’t know.” She whispered. “It’s - I’m clean, at least. The hospital didn’t ask too many questions, at least. It’s the small blessings that make life worth it, right? We just move on. Or try to, at least.” She only wanted to curl up against Ariana, but she also knew that she had to be strong. That was who she was, stronger than her brother, stronger than anyone. Even if events over the course of the past month or so had proven that perhaps that was not always true, she had to hold onto it on some level, at least. Had to hold onto it because although she was doing better, she still had moments when everything felt like it could just fall apart. “The one back then was a much brighter pink, and one of the nurses drew unicorns on it. So almost, but not quite. Not sure if my parents loved the unicorns idea, but hey - it was something, and I liked the sparkles.” She nodded. “Oh, Jello is distinctly not great - you can go but I’d rather just have you around here. I’m not super hungry, and honestly seeing you has been the best part of all of this. I - I think I can go once they give me proper pain medication and instruct me on how to insure that I don’t make my injury worse. You think you can stay for that?” She didn’t let go of Ariana’s hand, though moved slightly closer to her, brushing her lips against Ariana’s. “I’m so glad you’re okay. Overall, at least. I’m so glad you’re alive.”

It was evident to her that there was something deeper going on with Athena, so she just kept close to her and tried to offer any comfort she could. Taking any comfort she could. Ariana had known defeating Lydia wouldn’t be easy and she’d known the chances for losses along the way had been far too high. Still, she had hoped against all better judgment they’d be able get everyone out alive. Seeing Todd and Kelly there had thrown her for a loop. It hadn’t even dawned on her that more of her friends would be who Lydia decided to turn into her next meal. The thought still made her stomach churn and she kept Athena’s hand loosely in hers. It tethered her to this moment where they were both alive and relatively okay. Her thumb kept idly drawing patterns and she watched Athena’s face as she spoke. “We don’t have to talk about it,” she said softly before placing a feather light kiss on Athena’s temple, “I’m glad they didn’t ask too many questions. And you are clean, I think you should be able to come home soon.” She swallowed back the lump in her throat as she thought of the stop she’d have to make along the way. It only served to increase the pressure in her chest and she refocused on Athena’s words. On the way how even when she looked exhausted beyond all belief under fluorescent hospital lights, she still looked so beautiful. How warm her hand felt even with the frigid hospital air. “That sounds pretty damn adorable. It’s not glitter unicorns, but maybe I could still draw something fun on your cast. Better yet, I’m sure Sasha would love to decorate it for you.” Her voice remained quiet still, but there was a weak smile on her face as she tried to find happier things for them to focus on. She placed a kiss on Athena’s lips as they brushed against her and moved her chair closer to the bed. If her company was what Athena needed right now, she could provide. “Then I’m staying,” she said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, “I’m not very hungry either. I don’t think I- Days like today are kind of rough on the whole appetite thing, huh? I don’t think there’s any fixing that, but being with you makes it better, too. As better as things can be.” She leaned onto the hospital bed to be closer to Athena and found it still difficult to hold her how she wanted to, so she just let her arms loosely drape over her. “Yes, we’re both alive,” she said though her voice sounded distant as Todd falling to the ground played over in her mind again, “I’m… Can I tell you what happened?”

She didn’t regret anything about what had happened. Except for what pain and anguish that her brother had suffered, even the broken arm was nothing. Even though it had felt like some of the very worst pain that Athena had ever experienced in her entire life, she felt a certain sense of pride that she’d been able to hold back any outward expressions of pain, even though she knew that perhaps being able to admit to feeling pain was something that she should do, at least at some point. It had ultimately worked in their favor, in the end -- but she knew that was because of her years of training. Because if she’d dared show any outward signs of weakness in that moment, then Lydia might still be alive and everything would have been for naught. So denying the pain helped, and she hoped that it might have at least somewhat lessened her brother’s worries about what he’d done to her. Which was all she ever wanted, even if she knew that perhaps her methods were not always the methods that her brother preferred to be protected by. “I mean, some people here know - knew my father, which perhaps means they are less inclined to ask after. Besides, I can just tell them it was a necessary move in a winning soccer match, and that, when combined with a grin, does wonders.” She grabbed a plastic cup of water from the tray of food and took a small sip for a moment. “I’d like to come home, though.” She placed the water back on the tray, biting her lip for a moment, refocusing. “I’d take artwork from either you or Sasha. I think it could use some decoration, though I have certainly outgrown the whole glittery unicorns thing. I’ll do glitter make-up for sorority events, but not much beyond that.” It was nice to feel Ariana’s lips against her own, and Athena couldn’t help but smile as she moved closer to the bed. “You know that I am not that big, though I am aware I’ve got a few inches on you, but you can come up here with me. It might make this easier.” She shrugged. “Yeah, it doesn’t make me want to eat much, but maybe we can manage something nice together when I’m out of this place.” She let her free hand card through Ariana’s hair. “Of course you can. You can tell me anything.”

“That makes sense,” Ariana said as she nodded along. It hadn’t dawned on her that Athena knew a lot of the staff here because of her parents. If it meant this whole ordeal was questioned less, she’d take it as a positive. She could see how worn out Athena looked. Something was troubling her though she couldn’t quite pin down what. Facing Lydia couldn’t have been easy, but even so, she did feel a sense of relief knowing Athena was alive. “You’ll be able to come home soon. Luna and I both will take good care of you,” she said as she placed a soft kiss on Athena’s fingertips. “Maybe once you’re up for it, you can come by practice and Sasha and I can both decorate.” Hopefully, it could turn a troubling memory into something a little better. When she looked down at her arm, she could be reminded of how much love she had in her life rather than all the pain. At least, Ariana hoped as much for her. At the mention of joining her on the hospital cot, she climbed up into the bed. “You don’t have to tell me twice,” she mumbled into Athena’s chest as she wrapped her arms around her. Even under the smell of hospital cleansers and antibiotics, she could still smell the faint scent of Athena’s perfume and let herself breathe it in for a minute. “We will have something nice at home.” They both probably needed it. She left her head nuzzled into Athena’s hair for a moment not quite wanting to say what happened, but couldn’t have Winston be the first person she told. Couldn’t have them try to console her when they’d be just as distraught. She let out a soft sigh, “I don’t think I can keep it together if Winston is the first person I tell.” She found herself looking down at their hands as the ache in her chest took precedence. “Somehow, Lydia ended up with two more of my friends… One of them was friends with both Winston and myself. He…” She didn’t want to say it. Didn’t want to let it be real so she let her voice trail off. Tears pricked at the edges of her eyes and she didn’t bother trying to fight them. “He didn’t make it. He couldn’t break the promise. I-” Failed.

“I came to many ‘take your child to work’ days. Admittedly not the top place someone might expect to go, but I was fascinated. Even if I couldn’t be in the operating rooms. I think some of the nurses and doctors who were not busy had a nice time babysitting me.” Athena bit her lip for a moment. She knew she was talking too much, hyper-focused on the good from the past, rather than whatever else her memories wished to conjure up. Whatever other memories spending time with her father brought to the surface. “I know you will.” She looked down as Ariana pressed her lips against her fingers. “It’ll be okay. Luckily I tend to bounce back fast.” She raised an eyebrow, hoping that Ariana would understand - because even though they were alone, there were many hospital personnel making their way about and overhearing anything about super healing might not do either of them any good, regardless of if the doctors believed her. “Yes, I’d like that very much. Watching the soccer game plus getting two of my favorite people to decorate my cast? Not really something I can so easily pass up.” She couldn’t help but smile as Ariana climbed up onto the bed with her. “I mean, being alone in any sort of bed and without you just feels wrong.” She could feel her body relax at Ariana’s touch and she sat there quietly for a moment, her breath steadying. It was nice, to just have a moment all their own, and she found that she didn’t mind so much that they were in a relatively public place. At least not for the two of them being seen. Which was something else new, but not something she could entirely focus on right now. She just knew that she felt safe and comfortable and that was all that mattered. “Tell them…” her voice trailed off, unable to finish her question before Ariana continued. “I’m so sorry.” She pulled Ariana closer, kissing her forehead, her nose, her cheeks, her lips. “You did what you could. It is not on you. Not your fault. I am so sorry.”

“You know, that’s actually pretty sweet to think about. Little you being fascinated with learning all about medical things,” Ariana said softly as she burrowed herself into Athena. It was nice to think about. Nicer than anything else currently on her mind. She could see a small Athena walking around with a notepad and kids’ stethoscope. It was easy to picture the sense of pride that little girl must have had because it turned her into such a beautiful and goal driven woman. She held her a little tighter. “Good,” she muttered into Athena’s chest. There was the unspoken I need you to be okay, but she knew Athena understood. They both worried for each other and couldn’t stomach the thought of losing each other. Going up against Lydia had left her worried for both of them, but in the end, they’d done what was necessary though Athena may have done so with a little more success. At least they could talk of decorating the cast and help turn it into something nice to remember. Sasha was sure to be excited to decorate the cast for Athena. She noted she should pick up some different color Sharpies for her to use. No matter what, she knew it’d give Athena something to smile about where there may not have been otherwise. “I thought you might say that,” she said tiredly as she let her arm lazily rest around Athena. The constant beep of heart monitors and other assorted medical equipment in the background made it hard for her to truly relax into Athena’s touch. To let herself become distracted with how Athena’s fingertips felt on her skin. All of which was preferable to where her mind went when she thought of Todd. How she’d been so sure after Kelly crossed over the threshold that Todd would be good to go. To how suddenly that came crashing down as she rushed to catch him only to realize how rapidly his heart stopped beating. A sob caught in her throat and realization hit Athena. Her eyes welled up and she tried to focus on the feather light kisses Athena placed on her. If it weren’t for the setting, she would have likely pulled her closer for a deeper kiss, but the constant hum of noise in the background made it difficult to melt into her completely. Instead she just held onto Athena tightly and laid there quietly for a while as tears slid down her cheeks. After a few moments, she finally said, “I know, I just--” her voice cracked and she held on tighter to Athena, “I’m so tired of losing people. Of not being able to protect them. I hate that this is becoming so familiar that it’s starting to feel like I’m… I don’t even know how to feel properly sad anymore. I just feel exhausted.”

“I probably have some pictures,” back at my house, “if I get ahold of them I can show you pictures of tiny me.” Athena nodded. “I’ve always had a tendency toward wanting to learn as much as I possibly can. Some might say it’s ‘cause of my namesake, but I like to think I did it all on my own.” She breathed in the scent of Ariana’s hair as she held her closer. It was almost possible to escape everything going on around them. She’d made it out fine - relatively speaking, at least - she was more worried about her brother, what impact all of Lydia’s promises would have on him. Being manipulated by someone - she still knew that she’d have to talk with him about how he’d happened upon Lydia in the first place (but only when he was ready), but for now she hoped he was being taken care of. “Well, you know me well, so I guess it tracks that you can pinpoint what I’ll say next.” She moved her free hand up, fingers laced into Ariana’s. Everything was more than just a bit overwhelming, and she could still smell the burning skin, and could hear Lydia’s pleading with her. You are our perfect daughter, her parents’ words returned again and she tensed up for one moment, the doctor’s footsteps that she could hear passing by the door were nothing more than someone on their way to talk with a patient. Not her father. Not her mother, come to check in on her. “It’s okay,” she whispered, refocusing on Ariana. “I mean - it’s - it’s a lot, but I’m here, and I’m going to keep you safe.” She removed her hand from Ariana’s and brushed a few tears off of her cheeks before reaching to grab a box of hospital tissues from her bedside table. “They’re a little rough, but they do something. I hope.” She let Ariana pull her closer, “You’ve lost more than anyone should.” Was she in her right to give this sort of advice? When she knew she and her family had been responsible for lives lost? Pushing the thought away again, she pressed her lips against the top of Ariana’s head again. As if she would fade away if she stopped checking in, stopping touching her. “It’s not your fault. It’s the fault of so many others who you have had the misfortune of encountering. You have helped - or tried to, and you should be owed a kindness by the universe. I am sorry it has not happened yet.” She scrunched her nose up. She should cry now, shouldn’t she? Normal people did. Ariana did. She hadn’t even cried when her brother snapped her arm practically in half. “I am so, so sorry.” The best she could do was to scrunch up her face into a facsimile of what she imagined she might look like if she could cry. Scrunched nose and half-scrunched eyes. She opened her eyes again for a moment, looking down at Ariana. “I’m here. You’re never going to lose me, okay? You’re a pretty good motivation for me to keep safe, I think.”

“I’d like that,” Ariana whispered as she let the steady thump of Athena’s heart soothe her. She felt so far from herself. From the girl who wanted to make some quippy comment about how she could fill in the blanks of what Athena would say. Be that little bright spot for her on this otherwise bleak day, but she felt dimmed right now. Hollowed out in a way she didn’t quite know how to fix. Her own screams from earlier still echoed in her ears alongside Kelly’s. When she closed her eyes, she could see Todd fall over and over again though now she watched with morbid fascination, unable to process another ounce of grief. She wanted to feel the pain. Mourn Todd as he deserved to be mourned, but it was as if the well that contained her sorrow had run dry and was left empty. She was left empty. The feeling of Athena brushing tears from her cheeks brought her back the moment and she idly held on to her for a moment longer before accepting the tissues. “It is a lot,” she said softly as she used a rough tissue to dry her tears. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to tell Winston, they’ll be so,” her voice cracked and she tried to focus on the gentle touch Athena was providing. The way her fingers found her hair. How soft her lips felt against her forehead. She wanted to melt into Athena’s touch and forget everything else, but the dull pain in her chest couldn’t be ignored. “I have and I’m just-- I’m so exhausted, Athena. I can’t keep doing this. I don’t know how to explain it, but I feel like I’m losing more of myself every time and I just want it to stop. I just want everything to stop for a while.” For the world to stand still. For everything to stop spinning around her while she was rooted in place. She nodded slowly, still clinging to Athena. “I’ve tried to help,” she agreed slowly. Maybe she was owed a kindness, but it didn’t feel like it. It just felt like her attempts to help were failed. It was an impossible feeling to get comfortable in so she didn’t fight the instinct to kiss Athena this time. The footsteps from earlier were long gone and even though the hum of fluorescents was irritating, she could find some semblance of peace and hope in her kiss. She wanted nothing more than to let herself get lost in that feeling, but it wasn’t the time or place. She pulled away and agreed, “You’re right, I won’t lose you.” She refused to lose Athena. “And you won’t lose me.” Together, they were near invincible. They had to be.

“Good. We’ll find a time, then. I was a pretty cute kid, if I do say so myself.” Despite the complex feelings it brought up, thinking about that was another welcomed moment of distraction from everything else going on. Athena nodded. “I can show you other photos of kid-Athena sometime… once, well… once I can get ahold of them.” She could hear her brother’s begging, see the terrified look in his eyes. She could feel her heart start to race as he’d held up the knife, the worry that perhaps he’d be the one to kill her, in the end. She was proud he’d managed to work around it, but the clear guilt and pain that he’d felt after wouldn’t leave her mind. She knew that the two of them didn’t share thoughts or feelings, but there was something about being twins that she’d always wondered if it gave them some sort of leg up. Or if seeing her brother in that much pain just was too unbearable for her, even when she tried to shut down any sort of strong reaction. “They won’t blame you.” She shook her head. She didn’t know that for sure, but she knew that this was the sort of thing you were supposed to say at times like this. Besides, she did know that Winston was more forgiving than she was, without a doubt. Ariana had done the best she could, and in the end, it was Lydia’s fault and nobody else’s. She refused to break away from Ariana, no matter what. Even though the beeping was distracting and she wanted to see her heart rate, wanted to check on everything, she made herself concentrate on Ariana and Ariana only. “You don’t have to explain anything to me. I wish I could make it stop. We’ll go home - we’ll go and maybe just lock ourselves away for a day, just be together, shut out the world. We can even stay in bed all day if you’d like. I can be very persuasive about that sort of thing, and besides, who knows, I may need someone to watch over me.” She wanted it to sound more of a joking-flirting than she knew it did, knew that it sounded halted, but she hoped that the overall sentiment would come through. I care about you and I’m not someone who cares so easily. “You have.” She murmured as Ariana kissed her, breathed against her lips, grateful for her warmth in the cold and sterile room. “Good. That’s a deal I’m willing to make.” She swallowed. “I - what I did to Lydia - it - it wasn’t pretty. I was so mad. But she’s gone. She can’t hurt anyone. I just - I wanted her to suffer as much as she’s made everyone else suffer. I don’t know what else I can say, but you’d asked before and I figure I owe you at least that much.” Athena let her breathing relax for a moment, glancing away from Ariana, at the white wall in front of her bed.

Ariana briefly closed her eyes and was able to envision Athena as a kid. Probably not the most care free in the world given her tendency to strive toward perfection, but still more so than now. The photos were a small something to look forward to. A small reminder that for all the pain she’d gone through, she had so much love in her life yet. She let out a slow sigh and let her fingers trace patterns over Athena’s torso. “You’re probably right,” she said barely above a whisper. Winston had always shown her nothing but understanding, she just hated the thought of delivering bad news to them. There was some relief that washed through her that she didn’t need to explain it word for word for Athena to understand. Even as she tried, nothing could quite mirror the despair she’d been left with. How Todd’s face seemed to play in her mind on repeat despite her efforts to push it out. To pretend none of it ever happened. That wasn’t how this worked. “Thank you,” she murmured into Athena’s neck. “Can we do that? Just lock ourselves away for a day?” Did she even deserve that? She wasn’t too sure, but she couldn’t say no. “Bed all day sounds best. I’m sure you can be very convincing on that front,” her voice sounded strained even though the idea of just being close to Athena sounded better than anything else. That was something that always held true. After their kiss, she just held her close not wanting to let go. Too much had slipped away from her already, she couldn’t bear the thought of Athena being part of that. Her words brought her out of her own thoughts and she looked up to Athena carefully. Ariana had no fault to place on her. In her own mind, she had wanted to do unspeakable things to Lydia. There was no denying Lydia deserved those things and worse. “Good,” she said at first though she wasn’t sure if that was what Athena needed to hear, “With what she did, she deserved whatever hell you gave her. I don’t like thinking like this, but I wanted to do worse to her. I don’t fault you for doing so. You helped me. You helped every single person she had captive in her home and any future person she would have taken. Without you, none of this would have been possible.” She leaned up to place a soft kiss on her cheeks and kept her arm draped comfortably over Athena. “You don’t have to say anything else or explain anything. You did what needed to be done and we can finally breathe a little easier now.”

She wanted to ask after seeing photos of Ariana as a child, but she knew that she’d moved around a lot, and so she kept the wish to herself. The last thing that Athena wanted to do was make Ariana feel sad. She felt her body relax at Ariana’s touch, the lightness of her fingertips something she could practically lose herself in. Her injury from where the side of the countertop in her childhood home (even once it stopped being a crime scene she doubted it would ever feel like her home any longer) had cut into her was long gone, even if the memory still wasn’t. “Mhm, I often am, actually.” She whispered back. Part of her wanted to know more, but she didn’t want to push - Ariana would tell her whatever it was that she wished to tell her in her own time - and they had time - for now just being there was more than enough. “Of course.” She kissed Ariana’s hair again. “Yes, I think we can. We’ll just lock ourselves away and you can play with my hair and I can play with yours and we can just have a space that is even more our own than it already is. I can be and as you are well-aware, you are my favorite person to be convincing towards. Besides, convincing you to spend a day with me in bed is well worth it.” The two of them lay there silently for a few moments, and she watched Ariana breath, doing her best to match her own breath with hers. Making it even, measured, calm. At least relatively speaking, with regard to everything else. “Good.” she repeated. “I mean - you’ve never seen me hunt - seen - it’s - well, I was taught by experts. Regardless of what else they were, they were experts in that and…” her voice trailed off. “You’re allowed to think that way. With everything she did. I am glad I was able to help rid the world of her, to give everyone she’s killed some form of justice, however belated, and to stop her from ever hurting anyone again.” She could see Lydia pleading, starting to look less and less human, the way that Athena had just blocked all the sounds out, unwilling to stop, on autopilot - I did what I had to do. She’d relished in the feeling, too, if she were to be completely honest with herself. “We can, now.” For now. Athena closed her eyes for a moment before opening them and looking back over to Ariana. “One positive - for all that - for everything terrible, my brother still managed to prove himself strong. I don’t know if he’ll see it that way, but even with the broken arm thing - I’m proud of him.” I need to check on him and make sure he’s not absurdly done up with guilt, but I’m proud of him. “I’m just - he’s safe, which is all that matters. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be talking this much. I won’t, when we’re all tucked away for the day. You’re just a relief to talk to, so it just happens.”

There was something about laying there with the person she trusted the most that brought about some semblance of being okay. Ariana knew she was far from it. Her heart and body both ached in ways she wasn’t quite sure could be fixed with anything other than care and time, but she was sure this helped. With her head resting on Athena’s chest, the steady thumping of her heart was almost enough to drown out the background noise. She was even able to muster a weak grin at Athena’s note of usually being right. “It’s part of the whole being real life Supergirl thing,” she joked though it didn’t quite resonate. Still, it brought her more to the present moment than the one at Lydia’s that had been stuck in her head since it happened. She sighed as Athena placed another kiss on her hair, “That sounds like exactly what we both need. I’ll make us breakfast to have in bed and we can watch movies or something. I don’t really care what we watch, I just-- Being with you and forgetting about the world for a day, that’s all I want.” Need, even. With this loss, she wasn’t denying herself the simple comfort of just being with someone she cared for. It still felt like she failed, but she needed this to be better. To pick herself up and keep fighting for what she believed in. Having someone to pick yourself up for helped. It was still evident Athena was shaken and she reached up to stroke her hair. “And you’ve never seen me as a wolf. We’re both fierce in our own ways. We both want to protect people. Lydia’s done a lot of terrible things, I don’t fault you for wanting to make it hurt.” She couldn’t see herself relishing in it, but even Blanche had suggested torturing her. Maybe it would have been the right call, getting her to release her captives from their promises. Hindsight, as always, was a bitch. At the mention of her brother, she sat up and looked at Athena. “What,” she asked confused, “Rio was there? Why was he- He’s not exactly who I thought you’d bring along is all.” Not with how protective of Rio she was. Not with how dangerous Lydia had been. Her face scrunched up in confusion, “What do you mean with the broken arm thing?” Either none of this was making sense or she’d been more exhausted than she originally thought. Then Athena was apologizing for talking too much and she shook her head. Her hand went for Athena’s good hand and gave it a squeeze. “Please, never apologize for talking or telling me things. I want to know what happened and how you’re feeling. Good, bad, or in between. All of it.”

“I mean, you’re not totally wrong, I guess I do have the whole superpowers thing down, kind of.” Athena shrugged. Though she’d appreciated the nickname for all the months that she’d had it, any sort of joking still felt off, somehow. Except that it did aid her in focusing on Ariana, and that was what she needed to do most right now. “We do - I think. I’d like breakfast and we can do anything you’d like. Even just sleep - I think I’ve felt so exhausted ever since - ever since my parents and it’s just so much to process, and I regret nothing - well, I don’t regret recent actions…” she trailed off. Shook her head. “I imagine you are - though I also understand not seeing you as a wolf. You deserve solitude, and I mean I still know other hunters,” her voice was hushed. “I don’t want anybody to hurt you.” She scrunched up her face again. “We do. I think that’s one reason we get along well - I didn’t want to, I needed to.” Athena sighed. She’d at least thought to dump all of her knives into her bag before coming into the hospital, and because enough people knew her no one had felt a need to look through her bag. “I - yes. I mean no.” Another shake of her head, though she winced for a moment, before settling back against Ariana. “He was there before me. He got promise bound by Lydia sometime before, I guess?” She squeezed her eyes shut. “And she had him - kidnapped him? He -” Athena did her best to steady her voice. “He broke my arm because he had to protect her. It could have been a lot worse. She gave him a knife.” Athena shuddered at the memory. “I don’t - I’m not mad at him, but that’s why I’ve got the broken arm. I want the same of you.” She bit her lip for a moment before she kissed Ariana again. “I mean, given everything, I feel like I am owed at least a broken arm, given everything I did to him, and at least I’ve got a healthy immune system. We - it was worth it. The outcome is worth the pain.” She shut her eyes for a moment, listening to the sounds around her, to Ariana’s breathing, once again grateful for the warmth around her.

“You do,” Ariana agreed quietly, not being able to fully slip into their normal easy back and forth. Everything still felt too heavy. Too fresh. She longed for a day where she couldn’t remember every detail of their rescue mission with perfect clarity. For some long stretch of time to distort how painful the day had been. Distort the images, sounds, and smells that were making themselves at home in her mind. She took a deep breath, tried to distract herself with the normally comforting scent of Athena’s perfume, but the sterile air of the hospital had all but overshadowed it. “Mm,” she mumbled softly into Athena’s chest, “That sounds good to be. As long as I can be with you and forget the rest of the world exists for a day. We could both use the rest.” They could both use a break, too, but Ariana wasn’t so sure that people like them got breaks. It didn’t seem like it. Her whole life had been a mess of running and loss. Once she finally found somewhere she could make roots, it seemed as if she was still constantly being uprooted somehow. “If you were to ever see me like that, it’d probably be because something is attacking us. I’m going to hold out hope we have some peace for a while.” It was getting hard to imagine at this point. It was getting even harder to hope, but somehow lying here beside Athena made it feel more like a possibility. Even if the word of Lydia having Rio promise bound made her seething all over again. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. It should have never gotten to this point and the thought of Rio having to go through that pained her. She knew how powerless it felt to be stuck in that position. Forced to do something you never would have dreamed otherwise without any real say. “I can check on him when I go give Winston the news. I know he has to be feeling pretty terrible right about now.” She squeezed Athena a little tighter. “I’m glad you’re both going to be okay, at least. And I’m even more glad Lydia’s gone.” She looked up to Athena and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. “I know it’s been a painful road to get here, but she can’t hurt anyone anymore. Not me. Not you. Not Rio.”

#sanctuary #athena #wickedswriting #grief #abuse tw

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srhlsx · 4 years

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CHAPTER 6

master | ch. 5 | ch. 7

(Y/n),

Break up with Oikawa. Everyone knows he deserves better than you and you’re just dating him for the clout. You can’t seem to keep your legs closed and it wouldn’t be surprising if you were letting the whole volleyball team hit it as well. Oikawa is a gentleman and deserves to be with a lady who will be respectful and show him the love he deserves, not a cold-hearted wench who can’t express any emotions-

You crumbled the piece of paper that you found in your locker. This one was a little more formal, written on nice stationary paper with neat handwriting. The person obviously took their time with their words but it would be time that was wasted.

You had become really good at blindly tossing these notes over your shoulder and into the trash. You heard a distinct swish as the crumbled paper landed with the other garbage and was out of your sight forever. Letting out a sigh, you grabbed your bag and hurried outside to the athletic trainers office, Oikawa had asked you to come with him when his knee had been acting up again.

“You should get it checked out.”

Oikawa sat on an exam table waiting to be seen by the school athletic trainer. The student trainers had tried to look, but at your insistence they left to find their superior. Oikawa had tried to argue that it wasn’t necessary, but all it took was you giving the second year students a stern look and they realized who exactly they would rather listen to.

“What do you think I’m doing now?” Oikawa grumbled, flexing the foot that was propped up while the other one dangled off the ledge of the table. He groaned a little bit when you grabbed his foot, pressed lightly on his knee to keep his leg straight, and then lifted his entire leg up. You could see him trying to contain the wince on his face.

“See?” You said, gently setting his leg back down on the table. “That’s not normal, Tooru. You need to see a doctor.”

“Yes, ma’am~” He sneered into your face closely, making you roll your eyes and push him away. Being around him so much, you were picking up Iwaizumi’s habit of rolling your eyes almost every time Oikawa spoke. “I just want to get cleared for today, I hate missing practice matches.”

“Well, you’re not going to play in any matches, practice or otherwise, if you keep this up.” You grumbled, looking around the medical room as the door opened and an older woman walked in, followed close by the two second years you had reprimanded earlier.

She hummed in agreement, going over to Oikawa and giving his knee a good look. “She’s right,” She said after poking around and getting Oikawa to flex his leg in different ways. “It’s nothing major right now, but keep an eye on it. Let’s ice it for twenty minutes, then we’ll get you back to practice?”

Oikawa groaned loudly, covering his face with his hands and falling back on the medical table dramatically. The woman and her students left to get what was needed and you joined Oikawa on the table, hopping up to sit by where his head lay.

“If you don’t take care of yourself, this whole scheme of yours won’t matter anyways and you’ll have wasted my time.” You teased, brushing his hair away from his face so he’d look up at you. He moved his hands and laced them together to rest on his stomach, squinting from the glare of the fluorescent lights. “And I hate when people waste my time.”

He smiled up at you, a rare Oikawa smile that he actually meant although it didn’t totally reach his eyes. “Thanks, (Y/n).” He said, looking back down at his knee. “You’re a good friend.”

You nodded, leaning back on your hands a little while you both waited. “You owe me, prettyboy.”

When Oikawa opened the doors to the gymnasium a few steps ahead of you, you immediately heard a small chorus of shrill cries when he walked through. Fuck, that really is annoying.

You saw that there were two teams on the court, Seijoh players were wearing bright green jerseys while the other team had red ones. Oikawa walked up to the coaches who stood there with smug looks on their faces while the opposing team seemed to shift like a storm cloud had formed over them. You followed behind with Oikawa’s bags, having carried them for him into the gym, and stopped next to him as he explained to his coach that he was good to play.

You heard a few girls continue to shriek from the balcony of the gym, part of a small audience that had formed to watch the practice match going on. Oikawa waved awkwardly up at them and you could instantly see the discomfort in his face, you turned around as well and also waved at the girls. Immediately, their faces dropped and their giddy cries of glee were silenced.

Oikawa took off his warm up jacket and made a show of draping it over your shoulders. You were not really interested in drawing attention to yourself at this time and you weren’t interested in any petty displays of dominance, but you couldn’t help the little smirk that formed on your face at the sudden silence from the girls above. Maybe you really were scary.

You were still stewing over your concerns for Oikawa’s knee, he had walked over on it very gently and you had half a mind to tell someone on the team about it. As he turned to walk over to the area he could warm up in, you tugged lightly at the back of his shirt to get his attention. “Hey, go a little easy on it? It’s just practice.”

Oikawa looked at you over his shoulder and reached up to ruffle your hair affectionately. He smiled, one of his fake smiles this time, and spoke. “Oh (y/n), you of all people know it’s never just practice.”

- - - - -

The ball blasted past Oikawa after the red haired boy hit it. It was a shock to everyone and the lack of immediate reaction was no surprise. In fact, no one was really sure what had even happened for a few moments.

The scorekeeper flipped the last point over and the whistle blew to signal the end of the practice match. Karasuno had beaten Seijoh in a surprising upset, two sets to one.

Knowing that there was going to be some kind of follow-up, you turned abruptly on your feet and moved to head out of the gym and wait for Oikawa and Iwaizumi to join you to walk home. You figured giving them a little bit of time to clean and talk over the match wasn’t something you needed to be a part of. Finding a spot on a bench outside under a tree a few meters from the gym entrance.

You were scrolling through your phone when you heard the voices approach. They were distinctly female and very much not trying to keep their volume down.

“-just standing there the whole time.”

“Well at least she got to wear his jacket, that’s more than you can say.”

“I still can’t believe it, I mean she just broke up with that basketball player that graduated.”

“I know, totally stealing Oikawa from everyone else. Like, chill out on the boyfriends, yeah?”

“That other guy wasn’t even that cute, they dated for so- oop!”

You looked up from your phone when you heard the surprised noise one of them had made and saw the girls standing just a few feet from you and looking wholly embarrassed. You gave them a look, lazily glancing at them from head to toe - unimpressed - before looking back down at your phone again.

“Oh my god, you fucking dumbass.” One of them whispered as they scurried past you, doing their best to avoid looking at you, their faces clearly flushed.

You let out a sigh, already forgetting about the words spoken about you as you scrolled through your social media feed. You double tapped a few images friends and family members had posted, sending a few funny memes to Ichika, then clicking over to look at your own profile. You’d had to do a serious overhaul when things with Oikawa became known, the main one having to be that you turned off comments since the absolute spamming of them on your posted images had nearly shut down your account.

You had no idea that posting one picture of Oikawa, at his insistence since it would look believable for the two of you to be posting about one another, would cause such an uproar. It was a picture of him standing a few feet before the camera in your backyard on the day he came up with the plan, your massive dog was jumping up on him and had knocked the sunglasses off his head and you managed to catch a candid photo of it.

When you posted it, tagging him by username, you had no idea that within hours your profile would explode. Your follower count nearly tripled from the already high number you had, mostly girls requesting to follow you, and the sudden outpouring of comments filled with heart emojis and infinite X’s and O’s made your head spin. When you reset the password after getting kicked out of the account, you immediately made the changes to avoid it happening again.

“Kids these days and their phones,” You looked up at the sound of Oikawa’s scolding. He was walking with Iwaizumi towards you and you stood up to meet them so you could make the journey home.

“You boys look hungry,” You said, handing Oikawa his jacket from earlier. “How about I treat you to some meat buns?”

Oikawa cheered and skipped ahead happily, chanting some kind of made-up song about you which made you laugh. You looked over at Iwaizumi who was shaking his head at his friend’s antics although not scowling for once. You nudged him with your elbow, smiling up at him as he continued to chuckle.

“C’mon, Iwa.” You looped your arm with his and attempted to drag him to catch up. “Oh, have you done the calc homework yet?”

“Sorta,” He shrugged, hands in his pockets but not making a move to pull away from your grasp as you squeezed his arm to get his attention. “Looked at it but haven’t started.”

“Okay, same. Wanna work on it together? Two brains are better than one, right?” You asked, seeing him nod in agreement. You looked forward again to see Oikawa continue to skip ahead of you. “Let’s make sure he doesn’t get hit by a car.”

“Would that really be so terrible?”

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu iwaizumi #Iwaizumi Hajime #iwaizumi x reader #hq!! x reader #hq!!#hq

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westallenfun · 4 years

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All We Want for Christmas Is You, Chapter 5

WestAllen secret santa gift

From: @jade4813

For: @abbeyb77

Note: I hope you have a Merry Christmas, and I REALLY hope you enjoy your Christmas present!

Title: All We Want for Christmas Is You

Rating: G

Synopsis: When a bolt of lightning splits Barry Allen and the Flash into two different people just in time for the holidays, Barry struggles to find a way to tell Iris how he feels about her - and figure out if she really loves him or the scarlet speedster. My Westallen Secret Santa gift for @abbeyb77!

Chapters: 5/5

Just when Iris was convinced her heart would break, there was a bright flash of light behind her. She whirled around to find him standing there. But was it really him? Or all of him? “Barry?” she breathed.

“I told you I would run home to you, Iris,” he told her with a smile. But before he could say anything else, she threw herself against him. Wrapping her arms around him, she pressed her lips against his in a desperate kiss. The taste of his kiss reminded her of the quick embrace she’d shared with the Flash a few minutes before, but it was different, too. He lifted her off her feet with a shout of laughter, drawing her lips down for one kiss after another. Finally, he breathed against her cheek, “It’s so strange, but kissing you is like coming home. And no matter what happens in the future, the thought of you will always bring me home.”

Iris’s giggle was almost delirious as she pressed her cheek against his shoulder. “You know, I was looking around for mistletoe earlier, hoping it would give me an excuse to kiss you.”

When she met his eyes, she saw both sides of the man she’d come to know - the adorable nerd who had stolen her heart, and the smooth talker who had nearly swept her off her feet earlier that day in his apartment. “Who needs mistletoe?” he asked, pulling her in for another kiss.

—

“Do we really need to do this?” Barry asked later as Iris dragged him into yet another store.

“Yes, we do,” she replied in a tone that invited no argument. “The lack of Christmas decorations in your apartment is downright shameful, Barry!”

He wrapped his arm around her waist, nuzzling her neck from behind. “We could always go back to your place, if you’ve put decorations up already. And I don’t know about you, but I know I could think of a few things I’d rather be doing than shopping right now.”

Iris felt her blood heat as she thought about the implication of his words, but she tried to ignore the way he made her body feel. “I thought about going back to my place, but I’d still know your apartment was sad and empty of Christmas cheer. I’d know. And it would just eat me up inside. You don’t want to do that to me, do you?”

He seemed to consider the question, but there was a distinctly mischievous glint in his eye when he replied, “I suppose. That wasn’t quite what I wanted to eat you up this Christmas.”

Iris gasped and swatted his arm in mock outrage. “I cannot believe you just said that here in front of this Christmas tree display!” she protested, even as she lost herself in a brief fantasy of what he had in mind.

“Too far? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable -” he began, looking down with a sheepish smile. It was so like the one he’d once given his elf costume that she grabbed the hem of his jacket and brought him down for a searing kiss.

“Christmas tree now. But we’ll definitely be giving that a try once I rectify your Scrooge-like situation,” she murmured against his lips, causing him to laugh.

—

On Christmas Eve, Barry found himself curled up with Iris on his couch, staring wistfully at the lights sparking on his tree. A mound of presents lay underneath. If anyone had told him this was how he would end the year, he wouldn’t have believed it, and he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer to him at the thought.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked sleepily, pillowing her head on his shoulder as she looked up into his eyes.

“I was just wondering what ever made you look twice at a geek like me. Especially after the accident that split me into two different people. I was hardly sweeping you off your feet.”

She made a soft sound in the back of her throat and linked her fingers in his. “I don’t know. There was still something so…adorably endearing about you. Though you did drive me a little crazy because I kept trying to ask you out, and you kept acting like I was just trying to get close to you to get a story on the Flash! So I started inventing stories I needed your help with, but you just kept getting the Flash to solve them and then encouraging me to contact him for an interview!”

Barry’s smile was distinctly embarrassed. “I didn’t realize that’s what you were trying to do! I guess Barry could be a little clueless.”

“The Flash wasn’t much better, since I’m not sure he actually picked up on the fact I was talking about you when I told him I had a crush.”

He chuckled. “So you’re saying we’re both a little hopeless?”

“A little,” she agreed. “But I still love you. And, anyway, I didn’t fall in love with you because you were some suave superhero. I fell in love with the guy who was willing to put on a dorky elf costume and make a fool out of himself for some kids at Christmas. It’s like you said. You don’t need superpowers to be a superhero.”

He snorted. “You know, I already bought you your Christmas gifts, you know. You don’t need to butter me up,” he teased. “That’s hardly heroic.”

“It was to me,” she retorted with a small smile. “You made some kids happy at Christmas. What could be more heroic than that? Other than…well, even when the only thing I knew of you was what I saw at crime scenes, I could see how brilliant you were. Not everyone sees the world the way you do or has your ability to use your mind to bring criminals to justice.” He was touched, uncertain of what to say, when she continued, “You’re my hero, Barry. With or without your powers. Don’t you know that?”

“I-I must have forgotten,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Have I ever told you how much you amaze me? There would be no Flash without you, you know.” He suspected there would be no Barry Allen without her, either, since it was his love for her that had made him whole and brought him out of the speed force. He doubted he’d ever be able to explain what it felt like to lose himself in the speed force, other than to say that it was the closest he could come to imagining what it was like to be in heaven. Other than being in her arms.

It was that thought - and the thought of holding her in his arms once more - that had helped him to focus on coming back to her. And when she’d turned and he saw that smile that stole his heart every time, he had no doubt he would always come home to her. Whatever it took.

“I suppose if what you said is true, I can hardly deny it. But it doesn’t hurt to hear it again,” she replied lightly.

She started to relax against his chest again, but he pressed a kiss against her temple. “Actually, give me a second. There’s something I almost forgot.”

“What is it?” she asked curiously, shifting off his lap to allow him to get up. He moved to the tree and began to root around until he found a small present. He’d intended to give her most of her presents the next day - in fact, he had a whole plan involving a diamond ring he’d hidden under the tree - but he could hardly wait. Maybe this one present, he could give her tonight.

She chuckled, though she still grabbed her present with almost childish enthusiasm. “Aren’t you getting ahead of yourself? We’re supposed to open our gifts tomorrow.”

“Well, if you don’t want it -” he teased her as he reached for it.

“I didn’t say that!” she told him hurriedly as she held her present out of reach. When he laughed and dropped his hand, she tore into the wrapping paper, tossing it aside to open the box

Barry watched her face as she pulled out the ornament secreted within. It was a small frame, containing a picture of the two of them that Barry had taken a few nights before, when Iris dragged him out for yet another round of Christmas shopping. He had his arms around her from behind, a goofy smile on his face, a bedraggled Santa hap slightly askew. Iris was grinning at the camera, looking breathtakingly beautiful in a matching Santa hat, her smile brighter than the Christmas lights that shone behind them. With the lights shining behind them, the snowflakes that fell around them lent an almost magical air to the photo. At the top of the frame, Barry had carved a delicate Iris. Its stem swept around the edge of the frame, forming a subtle lightning bolt at the side before curving into a gentle heart down at the bottom.

“What…what is this?” she asked, running a finger gently along the carved image.

“When I was lost in the speed force, I had a lot of time to think. Time works a little differently there. At first, it was so peaceful, I didn’t want to think at all. But then all these images of my life - as both Barry and the Flash - flickered in front of me, and I…I thought about you.

“All those things I can do - as a CSI or a superhero - they don’t matter compared to this. To these moments I share with you. I want wake up next to you every morning and go to bed next to you every night, and I want nothing more than to share all the joys and sorrows that come in between with you.”

“Barry…are you…are you asking me to marry you?”

Blushing, he realized what he’d done as he started to stammer, “W-well, sort of. I mean…yes. Well, no. I didn’t mean to - I was going to do it tomorrow. I have a ring somewhere under the tree, and I was trying to think of the words to - I was just going to give you this tonight, but I guess I got excited, and -”

“It’s all right, Barry,” she said, holding out a hand in a comforting gesture. “Whether you ask me tonight or tomorrow, the answer will still be yes.”

“Really?” he breathed, almost unable to believe his ears.

With a wide grin, she nodded. “Really. Because I feel the same way. Being a reporter, trying to fight for truth and justice…giving hope to the city with my articles? All of that is important. But this is more important.” She held up the photo ornament. “Me and you. How I feel when we’re together, and the way I know we’re stronger when we’re together. I want to make the world a better place, but if was my destiny to be remembered like this? You and me? Together? As a family? That would be…I can’t imagine anything more wonderful than that.”

Unable to stand it any longer, he grabbed her by the hand and pulled her to her feet. She turned to head to the bedroom, but he stopped her. “What?” she asked.

“Nothing. Well…just one more thing,” he amended.

“Can it wait? Because I was just thinking of something else we could do…”

He chuckled, but the sound was pained. “No. Well, yes, but I spent a lot of time trying to think of how I was going to propose to you, and I don’t want to blow it entirely! I just know how much you like Christmas songs and I kind of had this idea of using one to propose. It’s a little dorky, I know, but -”

“It’s all right,” she broke in gently. “Do you want me to turn on the radio?”

He shook his head. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her and began to sway back and forth as he sang quietly, “Maybe I’m crazy to suppose I’d ever be the one you chose out of a thousand invitations you received. Ah, but in case I stand one little chance, here comes the jackpot question in advance. What are you doing New Year’s, New Year’s Eve?”

In answer, she jumped, wrapping her legs around his waist as she dragged his mouth to hers. When he began to carry her towards the bedroom, she whispered against his lips, “This year, next year, and every year after.”

#the flash #westallen #westallen secret santa #submission

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